The Light's Cold Rays
by Writerdragon
Summary: Poor little prince; stuck in a marriage he does not want to be in, lost his true love to a flamboyant wizard. Love was stolen from him. Poor, poor little prince. Will he ever find love? Justin/OC, Howl/Sophie, OC/OC.
1. Tea With the Prince

**I can't believe myself. I'm writing several other stories, two of them I have severe writer's block on and the others I just haven't updated because I've been lazy. And here I am, with another damn story. -.- I need to learn how to say "no" to myself.**

**ANYWAYS, I had this in my head when I was trying to write my other stories, and I started to write this instead.**

**This is more-or-less a very long and complicated character piece for the prince. Every time I watch the film, I feel sorry for him. Every. Single. **_**TIME**_**. I kept wishing that Sophie went with him rather than Howl. But, she didn't.**

**Since this focuses mostly on the prince, you won't see much of Howl, Markel, Sophie, or any of the other characters. Sorry. But for those who like the prince (like me), stick around.**

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><p><em>The Light's Cold Rays<em>

Tea With the Prince

I

It was day as usual in Market Chipping.

Sophie picked through the vegetables that lay in the cart; some covered by a canopy, others were not so the sun could soak into the skins of the delicious food. Markel was by her side, beaming just like the sun, clinging to her dress like the happy child he was.

"Mother, do we need potatoes?" he inquired in a chipper voice.

_Mother_. It was now what Markel called Sophie (he also now referred to Howl as "Father"). Markel was now the adopted son to husband and wife couple Howl and Sophie Jenkins. He also referred to the old Witch of the Waste as "Granny." It had been eight months since Howl and Sophie met, and within that time, they had married and planned to have a child of their own. Sophie smiled down at him.

"Yes, could you pick out five of them," she said, reaching into the front pocket of her dress, handing him the needed coins.

Markel beamed, gripping the cold metal coins to his palms. "Okay," he said simply, rushing off not too far from Sophie's line of vision to collect the needed potatoes from the stand he was at.

She watched him, a soft smile on her lips. He then returned with the food, placing them in the basket that hung around Sophie's wrist.

"Anything else we need?" the young boy inquired.

She blinked, and then looked at the list in her hand. "Um, yeah, we need carrots," Sophie noted, lifting her head up, glancing around the crowded market to find her needed carrots. "Let's go find some."

Sophie had to buy a lot of food for tonight for Prince Justin was coming to visit them. He had visited the small family every once in a while. He and Markel would play when he would visit, and he would have tea and cake with Sophie and Howl and talk. He would also send letters to the little family every once in a while.

Howl and Justin did have some tension between them (somewhat), but it gradually vanished over time. However, there was still part of the young Prince that yearned to make Sophie his, even though it was a dream that was too far from reach. So to appease himself, he could just visit her. Talk to her, and merely dream of what could never be.

"Here are the carrots," Markel announced, pointing at the wooden bin that held the orange-tainted vegetable.

Sophie beamed, picking out a few and paid the man that once owned them. "Okay, good, we've got carrots," she said brightly as she placed them into her basket with the other fresh food. "Last thing on the list—we need some cabbage."

Markel glanced around the area, beamed, and then pointed to the right. "Right over there, Mother," he said, reaching up to grab her hand, yanking her along. "This way!"

She chuckled lightheartedly, smiling fondly at the little boy. "Okay, okay, I'm coming!" she laughed, the little boy leading her by the hand.

Markel smiled up at her, his hand still gripping hers. He led her to the cart that held the round heads of cabbage, and both picked through it. "Here's a good one," she announced, picking out the freshest cabbage head she could find. She placed it into her basket, and paid the farmer his money. "Okay, Markel, let's go home."

"Okay," he simply agreed.

The two walked through the crowd of people, ready to go home so Sophie could ready the lunch for the Prince. It had been a while since she last saw him, so it was nice to once again have him visit. She assumed that the Prince was just simply too busy to drop by like he used to. She turned her head to look at her foster son.

"Why don't we see if we can invite Lettie to tea," she said.

Markel glanced up with a grin. "Can we?" he asked, his hands gripping the sides of her dress. His grin then slipped from his lips. "Do you think that Aunt Lettie is too busy?"

"Probably, but it won't hurt to try."

He nodded, and the duo walked on. Soon they approached the café where her sister worked. As always, it was packed with men and women. Waiters shuffled around the floor, holding their trays as if it were a balancing act on the tips of their fingers. At the front, where her sister was located, was crowded with admiring young and beautiful men. Most of the men were probably just there to look at her, but they were buying her cookies and tasty sweets anyways, because Lettie would just ignore them if they didn't. She maneuvered through the crowd, Markel clinging to her dress so he would not get lost.

"Lettie, are you free tonight?" a man inquired to the blonde, flashing her a suave smile.

"No, sorry," Lettie answered quickly, turning her back to him, and gave another man a box of chocolates. "Here you go."

"Thank you," the other man said, taking the box from her. "You know you have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen."

Lettie only smiled.

"Lettie!" Sophie called, her hands gripping the sides of her basket. "Lettie!"

The blonde woman glanced up, a smile appeared on her pretty face. "Sophie!" she called, handing a box to an eager young man. "How are you?"

Markel jumped up, waving his hand in the air. "Hi, Auntie Lettie!" he called, a large grin forming on his face.

The other woman beamed sweetly, looking fondly at the little boy. "Hello, Markel," she greeted enthusiastically.

When Lettie had met Howl for the first time, she only knew him as the heart-eater wizard Howl, and she thoroughly tried to beat him to death with her umbrella. Sophie had managed to stop her, but Howl suffered a nasty bruise on his shoulder. Lettie had apologized for what she had done when she realized that Howl was practically harmless. Soon Lettie started to fall in love with little Markel, treating him as if he were her own son—she even allowed him to call her "Auntie Lettie."

"What brings you here?" Lettie called over the crowd.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Sophie answered cheerfully. "I also wanted to ask if you wanted to come and join us for tea."

"At what time," Lettie asked, moving closer to the side of the counter she was behind.

"At four?"

Lettie winced, and she pressed her lips tightly together. "I have to stay after four," she said sourly. "I'm sorry."

Sophie nodded in her understanding. "It's alright," she said. "Maybe next time, how about that?"

"That sounds wonderful," Lettie said. "I'll see you soon."

"Alright, bye, Lettie. Let's go, Markel."

"Wait!" Lettie called, reaching in the back, pulling out a box of specialized candies. "Here, for you, Markel and Sophie. It's already been paid for."

Markel let out a pleased gasp, and greedily reached for the box. "Thanks, Auntie!" he said joyfully, pressing the box to his chest.

Sophie smiled tenderly at her younger sister. "Thank you, Lettie," she said. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay, by, now," Lettie said, giving her sister a curt wave.

Sophie and Markel weaved through the crowd as Lettie returned to tend to her loyal and smitten male customers. Both were relieved when they reached outside, and both took in a breath of air.

"I knew she would be too busy," Markel muttered, pulling the box of chocolates away from his chest, and dusted the top of it.

"Oh, well," Sophie breathed. "Let's just get home so I can prepare the food for lunch and dinner tonight." She glanced down at the young boy, who was staring at the box of candies with a hungry expression. "And I'll take that." She snatched the box from his small hands.

"Hey," Markel whined loudly, giving her a pouting face.

"Not until Justin visits us," Sophie said sternly, placing the box of candy into the basket on her other arm.

Markel nodded in agreement, though he still pouted. Sophie chuckled, and patted the top of his head fondly. "C'mon, let's go," she said, taking long strides down the street.

Even though the original portal to Market Chipping was destroyed (most of the market had been repaired after the war), the small family was able to find an old and abandoned home to create a new portal to the bustling market. However, it was far from where they were located, which meant that Sophie had to lug the heavy basket all the way down the street, and down more a few blocks. She switched from arm to arm, and even Markel carried it for a while until his arms got tired. When the duo arrived, Markel placed the heavy basket down on the front step, and Sophie opened the door, and peered inside.

"Howl, we're home!" she called, allowing the little boy to enter first.

Markel quickly climbed the steps, and hurriedly placed the heavy basket on the table. The ex-Witch of the Waste sat on the sofa, smoking one of her cigars, peered over, smiling gently.

"Why, hello, Sophie," she said, flicking the ashes in a tray by her hand. "Did you get enough food for tonight?"

"Enough for all of us," she said in a chipper tone.

Heen sat under the main table, wheezing loudly, and then he snorted. Markel bent down, and smiled at the old errand dog. He reached across, pulling the dog into his arms, holding him close to his chest.

"Where's Howl?" Sophie inquired, sorting through the food in her basket.

"Where do you think?" Calcifer groaned. "Taking another bath. I swear, he's like a neurotic raccoon."

Sophie sighed as she continued to sort through the bought goods. She opened the box of chocolates, placing them neatly on a floral-decorated plate. Markel eyed them from where he was standing, and Sophie caught his gaze with hers.

"Don't even think about it," she said firmly. "I counted them too."

Markel let out a groan, but he joined the old witch on the sofa, and he fondly stroked Heen's head and back. The old dog's tail thumped ecstatically. Sophie then set out some crackers and cheese that she bought, placing them near the plate filled with candies. She then took the sorted vegetables, and placed them neatly into separate containers.

"Does Howl remember that Justin's coming over?" Sophie inquired to the talking fire, reaching for the kettle, and filling it with water from the faucet.

"I don't think so," Calcifer answered, reaching for a piece of wood that lay beside him. "Knowing him."

Sophie only hummed as she set the kettle on the stove. Markel glanced over from the sofa, Heen jumping off the boy's lap, and onto the wooden floor. "Do you want some help, Mother?" he called, shifting to his knees, staring directly at her.

"That would be nice," Sophie answered.

Soon the little orange-haired boy was helping her make dinner. Both washed the potatoes, the cabbage, and the other freshly-picked food. And when Howl left the bathroom, and moved downstairs, a salad had been constructed. The rest of the cabbage would be used later on that night for dinner, along with the other vegetables.

"Ah, Sophie," Howl greeted, his usual smile upon his lips. He glanced at the cheese and crackers and candies that sat on the table. "Candy? What's the occasion?"

"Silly, don't you remember?" Sophie asked, picking out several dishes from the cabinet. "Justin's coming over to visit us."

Howl's expression soured a little. "Ah, yes," he said. "I have forgotten."

"I told you he forgot!" Calcifer called from the fireplace.

Sophie only smiled at the fire demon, but then she turned to Howl, her face straight. "You know I only love you," she said softly. "He's just a good friend now."

"I think he still loves you," Howl said bitterly.

"He won't take me away from you," Sophie said, moving her head to press a kiss to his chin. "I love you."

"As do I," Howl returned, a smile returning to his lips.

Sophie chuckled, her hair moving slightly as she did so. "Sometimes you can be such a jealous thing," she chuckled.

Howl only grinned, reaching up, pushing aside a lock of hair from her face, and tucked it behind her right ear. She looked so pretty when she smiled like that. That was when there was a knock on the door. Sophie and Howl turned to the direction of the front door.

"That must be Justin," Sophie said brightly as she dried her hands on her apron.

"I'll get it," Markel said, jumping from the couch and to the door. When he opened, it was indeed the Prince. He had a soft smile on his face, but he looked tired.

"Hello, Markel," the Prince greeted.

"Hey, Turnip," the boy greeted in his sunshine-happy tone. Even though he knew the Prince's real name, he could not bring himself to call him by his given name. With that in mind, Justin allowed the boy to call him just that. He hugged the Prince tightly. "I missed you!"

Despite how he was feeling, Justin could not help but to smile at the innocent young boy. "I've missed you too, Markel," Justin said in return, placing his hand on top of the boy's messy head. "How have you been?"

"Great," Markel answered. He reached for the older male's hand, and tugged him inside. "C'mon, Mother's got tea and food ready."

The blonde Prince was pleased when he entered the home. It was nice and cool, rather than outside. He closed the door, and removed his top hat. Sophie approached the beginning of the stairway, and smiled down at him.

"Hello, Justin," she greeted.

His icy blue eyes moved up to look at her, and he mustered a smile. "Good day, Sophie," Justin said.

Sophie's smile vanished as she looked at him. Something about him was off. He seemed . . . _sad_. "Justin, are you okay?" she questioned, stepping aside for him as he climbed up the stairs. "You look tired."

Justin's eyes met with hers briefly, but then they closed. "Sorry, it's just the heat," he said, a tired smile forming on his lips. "It's taking its toll on me."

Sophie, however, did not think that, but she did not voice what she truly felt. Justin looked over the small family, and nodded. "Good day, every one," he said. "How is everyone today?"

"Just fine," Howl answered, taking his seat at the table. "Tea is almost ready."

"Tea? It's so hot, though," the Prince said, taking his seat at the table as well.

Howl smirked. Had the Prince forgotten that he was a wizard? Markel took his seat, and served himself some crackers and cheese. The old witch sat on the sofa, which was near the window, and continued to puff on her cigar.

"So, big boy, how are things at the palace?" the old witch inquired to the Prince.

The look on Justin's face quickly melted into despise—not at the witch, but at what she had mentioned. The palace. His home. He quickly put on a smile to cover up his old expression, and answered: "Fine. Everything is fine. I'm engaged to be wed."

Sophie gasped excitedly. "Really?" she said, tending to the kettle at the stove. "I did not hear about this in the news. Congratulations."

Justin looked at her, his normally bright and cheerful eyes glazed over and solemn, but he smiled nonetheless. "Thank you, Sophie," he said. "My father is trying to keep it hush-hush for now. But we will announce it to the press soon."

Sophie approached the table, placing down cups for the guest and her small family. Markel blinked, taking a bite out of his cracker. "What's her name?" he inquired. "Where's she from?" The young boy took the piece of cheese that was on his cracker, and shoved it into his mouth.

"Her name is Princess Annabeth," Justin answered, serving himself some cheese and crackers. It took much effort for him not to sound disgusted. He hated the woman, and he had only known her for about a week. "She comes from England."

"Oh, wait, I have heard about this," Sophie said. "I heard about her arrival in the news." She grabbed the kettle. "I was wondering what she was doing here. So, what's she like?" Sophie asked, returning to the table with the kettle, and she poured the hot water into the cups.

_Cold-hearted, wretched, heartless, shrewd, horrid, evil_, Justin thought, eating some of the crackers he had served himself. He swallowed, and answered: "She's a difficult one to describe."

Sophie placed the kettle back on the stove, and returned to the table with tea bags, handing one to each of the people at the table. Justin took the bag, and dunked it into the cup, waiting for the water to completely darken. He did not want to drink such a hot beverage. Just then, Howl's hand hovered over his cup, completely grasped tightly. Just then, there was a hissing, and two ice cubes plopped into the cup. Justin blinked, staring at his cup, and mostly at the ice cubes.

"Um, thank you," Justin said, tilting his cup to better look at his cubes.

"Iced tea," Howl said with a smirk.

Justin did not answer; he only started to serve himself some sugar. Sophie looked at him, worry on his face. "Are you okay, really?" she asked, reaching out to put her hand on his arm.

He relished in her brief touch, and then he smiled at her. "I'm fine, really, but let's refrain from speaking about the palace," he said.

Sophie did just that, but it was hard not to. What she did sense was that something was bothering her friend, and whatever it was, it was connected to his home. Over the chat, Justin began to cheer up and his tenseness started to fade. But when the time came for him to leave, tenseness and harshness flushed over his body and face. He placed his hat on his head, and opened the front door. Sophie stood by his side, a worried expression on her face.

"Justin, are you alright, I'm worried," Sophie whispered, gripping his arm.

The Prince turned to her, and forced a smile. "Don't you worry about me, dear Sophie," he said, reaching down, pressing a kiss to her hand. "I will see you soon."

Sophie looked at her dear friend, and she voicelessly drew him into a tight, warm hug. Justin had lost his voice for a moment, but then closed his eyes. He knew he could never have her, his apparent "true love." But, it was nice to have some affection from her. Justin really needed it. He patted her shoulders, and smiled. He was jealous of what Howl had with Sophie. That was what he wanted. Love. He wanted love. He smiled, but pulled away from her.

"I must go, Sophie. It's been lovely seeing you. Take care, until we meet again."

And with that, he left. But Sophie still had the feeling that something was very wrong.


	2. Day Goes In, Day Goes Out

**This was fast. This chapter's a bit dark.**

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><p>Day Goes In, Day Goes Out<p>

II

It was early in the morning. The exact time? Justin was not sure. He lay in his bed, his eyes dull; his face stiff. He felt numb all over his body. He was sad—no, he was depressed. The Prince buried his face in his plush, goose-feathered pillow. Justin knew he should not be as sad as he was. He had it made. He lived in a palace, servants waited hand-and-foot on him—he had every physical and materialistic thing he could ever want. But trinkets could not fill that hole in his heart. He wanted love.

As he lay limply in his royal bed that was adorned with thick curtains and expensive sheets, his mind wondered. All his life, he watched his parents, and what he came up with was simple: he did not want to be like them or end up like they had. His lovely mother had to marry his brute father simply to continue the royal line. She did not love him, nor did the King love his Queen. They were simply together for politics.

The curse of the royals, as his mother once said, was that they would never know what real love was like.

That horrified Justin. He wanted love. He wanted to be in love. The blonde Prince wanted to know what it would be like. What it would be like to wake up every morning with the person he loved more than the air he breathed, to share the same bed, to hold her tightly in his arms, to have children with that person—to be _happy_.

That was why, when he was young, he loved to hear stories about the knight saving the Princess, them falling in love, and having an happily ever after. But, those were stories, not life. He remembered that his father had many women that he would bring to his chambers. Mistresses. He remembered those women. He had never desired to have one. He did not want to be like his father or like his youngest brother, who followed after his father's bad habits to a T (he was married to a beautiful Princess to their ally and he had many mistresses). To be honest, Justin did not like the man much. They had nothing in common, they hardly ever spoke, even when he was young, he never saw him—and that was his father!

But his mother was a different story. He _loved_ his mother. Whenever he was down, she would be there with kind, gentle words to pick him back up. Whenever he needed some affection, she would adorn him with hugs and kisses. He loved her so much. Not like his father, who would ridicule him to no end. Justin's mother was gentle, kind, loving. She was the model of what he wanted his true love to be like.

His mother knew what he was feeling. She knew that her son was depressed. The Queen had tried to talk to her son, try to comfort him like she would normally. They had promised not to tell the King, for Justin knew what his father would do. Slap him in the face, tell him to "snap out of it." Or worse: maybe send him to an asylum to get electrocuted, get dumped into cold water . . .

Justin shivered. Part of him could not wait for morning, the other part of him wished morning would take longer. When morning would come, he would be able to speak with his mother, but that also meant that he would have to deal with _her_.

The devil-woman, as Justin loved to call her, Annabeth.

She was exactly opposite of what Justin wanted in a woman. She was a tyrant, cruel, heartless; downright shrewd. She would scream and yell at the servants (or worse slap them) if they did not do something correct, was utterly selfish—he even heard that he would fire her servants if they made her mad enough. And he would have to marry _her_.

Justin groaned, picking up his pillow, and covered his head with it.

He was in trouble. Justin felt like he was in a raging ocean, drowning, with no one to throw him some rope, no one who cared to notice how much in pain he was . . . no one else who even cared about his feelings.

According to his father, he was being weak—he wasn't being a man. But what was the definition of being a man? To keep their emotions bottled inside? Never show weakness? If that was being a "man," he did not want to be a "man." For once, he wanted to be weak for someone. He wanted to cry. He wanted to express his emotions to someone other than his mother. The only person he could do that with was his mother. She never mocked him, never was cruel to him—she was just gentle and sweet. Justin could feel her arms wrap around him as he would cry.

The Prince pushed the plush pillow off his face, and turned on his back, staring at the ceiling above him. When he met Sophie, she began to feel love for her. He was so excited. When she had kissed him, freeing him from his curse, he thought he could bring her to his castle, and they could live happily ever after. He at first presumed that Sophie thought she was in love with Howl, but then he would return, and sweep her off his feet. But . . . that did not happen. Justin remembered watching the two of them. They were in love.

That nearly killed the Prince.

It broke his heart.

Justin slowly slipped into depression when realization hit him like a brick wall. But, like his white knight in shining armor, his mother came to his rescue, telling him that he could find love elsewhere before his father would find a bride for him. But that time had come, and Justin was breaKing.

The door opened. What? Was it morning?

"Your highness."

Justin turned his head, staring at his male servant, Booth. The servant lit the kerosene lamp, his eyes staring at the Prince.

"Your highness, time to get up," Booth stated.

Booth was his trusted servant. Justin could rely on him all the time. The Prince sat up, his arms limp, his eyes dull. Booth opened the large, thick curtains, light pouring in. Justin cringed.

"Booth," Justin called.

Booth turned around, staring at his Prince.

"Yes, your highness," he called.

Justin was silent, his eyes flicking to his servant. "No, it's nothing," he said, his hand reaching up to rub at his eyes. "Never mind."

Booth continued to stare, but then he nodded, briskly walking to the door. "Your mother wishes to see you in the study right after breakfast, alone," he added before closing the door.

Justin stared at the door for a few moments before swinging his legs over the side of his bed. His bare feet touched the cold marble floor, and the Prince let out a little groan. He forced himself up, and approached his closet, picking out his purple suit with white undershirt and pink bowtie. He quickly dressed himself as he looked at himself in the long full-length mirror. He fumbled with his bowtie for a moment before staring at his reflection.

Since when did he have such dark rings under his eyes?

He leaned in, examining the skin around his eyes. He knew that those weren't there yesterday (or not as dark as today's). Justin tugged at the flesh, and then sighed. It was no use. The Prince soon found his brush, and he started to comb out his hair, smoothing it out and putting it in place. Justin bowed his head, and licked his dry lips. He then reared his head up, in attempt to look composed, and left his room for the dining hall.

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><p>The dining hall was massive. In front of him was a large oak table that had many elegant chairs at the sides of it, and each chair had a plate and silverware. A large glass chandelier hung high and proud above the small humans below. Along the walls were paintings of his old family members. Each one of the portraits was solemn and stoic. Kerosene lamps were not lit; instead the curtains for each window were pulled back, allowing the sun to seep through the glass. He could hear the servants from the kitchen from where he was standing—they were talking about Annabeth. There was the clatter of dishes and silverware; the sloshing of soapy water. Justin inhaled sharply, and exhaled, trying to calm himself. He put on his acting façade, and entered the dining room.<p>

There he saw his lovely mother, Queen Sarah vaan Hart. Her blonde hair was neatly pulled back into a bun so that her shoulders would be shown off. The female servants must have spent a long time with that bun—it looked so neat and tidy. His mother's face was slender, albeit a few crow's feet on her eyes and wrinkles on her face—she was still a beautiful woman. Her grey eyes were upon him, and she gently smiled.

His father sat at the end seat. King Justin vaan Hart II was a tall man with thunderous eyes and broad shoulders. He was an intimidating man to look at. He was reaching up with his large hand, lightly playing with his thick handlebar moustache.

And there was Annabeth. She was quite the beautiful woman, regretfully. It was a shame that she was an ugly person on the inside. Her eyes were as dark as her long hair. She wore an elegant dress that hugged her body tightly. She grinned at Justin.

"Ah, Justin," Annabeth greeted.

"Good morning," Justin said, mustering a chipper voice.

He took his seat by her, and shifted uncomfortably. His mother eyed him, a frown on her lips. "Justin, dear, what's wrong with your eyes?" she inquired, worry in her voice.

Justin cringed. "Nothing," he said quickly. "It's nothing, Mother."

"You look horrid," his mother persisted.

"I'm fine, Mother," he said, reaching across the table to pat her hand. "I just had a difficult time sleeping, that's all."

His father said nothing; his eyes flickered between them. Annabeth growled under her breath, staring at her empty goblet. "These stupid servants she hissed, grabbing the goblet, looking inside of it."I asked for water." Annabeth then screamed: "Servants! I asked for water!"

Justin cringed again as he started to feel a headache start itself. The day had barely begun, and his head was starting to ache. His fingers briefly touched his forehead, and he glanced over to his mother, who frowned.

"Justin," his father spoke. "As you know, tonight is the engagement ball. You are to purpose to Annabeth tonight, is that clear?"

Justin stared emptily at his father's stoic face. "Yes, Father," he whispered.

That was when the Prince felt a tug on his arm. "Tonight will be a beautiful ceremony," she said, holding his arm close to her body. "And everyone will see!"

Justin was still blank, but forced a sweet smile on his lips. Annabeth then turned back to her still empty goblet. "Those imbeciles, where is my water?" she hissed, letting go of Justin's arm, and grabbed her goblet. "Servants! Where is my water! I want it _now_!"

Justin reached up, his fingers tenderly rubbing at his temple. _I'm in Hell, this is Hell_, he thought to himself.

The breakfast continued on like that, Annabeth screaming for everything she wanted, the servants running for her like chickens with their heads chopped off, Justin's headache started to worsen. And to think, he would live like this every morning when he would marry her. His father spoke: something about him proposing to her under the gazebo in front of everyone later on that day (mid-day was dropped somewhere in his speech), and she would say "yes," and after that, the wedding would be prepared. And, of course, news about the proposal would spread across the Kingdom like wildfire. The party that would happen tonight was already being prepared.

Justin sat dully in his seat as his father spoke, Annabeth clinging to his arm the entire time. It was all an act. He knew she just wanted the throne. She was just a selfish little wretch.

"Justin, you've barely touched your food."

His mother's voice snapped him out of his trance as he looked at his food. To his right was a poached egg that sat in its own dish. His hand was loosely holding his silver fork, the long prongs pressed against thick slices of pork. Annabeth looked at him.

"You do not look well," the Princess noted.

"I'm fine, just tired and lost in my thoughts," Justin said, lifting his fork to cut into his food. "I'm just fine."

His mother frowned.

* * *

><p>"Yes, Mother?"<p>

She sat in the library. It was large—the largest in all the land. The shelves reached to the ceiling, and books filled every inch of the shelves that surrounded them. Large curtains were pulled back, showing the large square window and letting in the sunlight. His mother sat in her chair, a thick book in her lap. Sarah turned her head up to look at her young son.

"My son, sit," the Queen said, motioning towards the chair parallel to her.

Justin licked his lips, and did what his mother instructed. Light outlined his frame as he sat in the chair in front of her. His hands were placed in his lap, and his body erected, trying to look prideful and strong. Sarah sighed, shifted, staring at her son.

"My son, you look horrible," Sarah whispered. "Did you sleep well last night? Your eyes look tired."

Justin reached up, scratching the back of his head. "Not really, Mother," he whispered, his hand limply dropping back in his lap.

"My son, you know I love you."

"Yes, Mother, I do."

"I want you to be happy," Sarah whispered, her hand reaching out to touch his hand.

"I know you do, Mother," Justin whispered, his hand moving over hers. "I love you, Mother."

Sarah closed her eyes. "My dear son," she whispered, "I wish there is something I could do. I tried to talk to your father. But you know how he is. He won't listen to me."

Justin was silent. "I don't want to be with her," the Prince groaned. "Mother, I don't want to be with her at all."

"I know that," the Queen whispered. "I tried to allow your father to postpone the marriage—"

"What's the point," Justin groaned, shaking his head. "I'm not going to be free."

Sarah swallowed, bowing her head. She pulled her hand away, and she picked up the book, placing it on the table that sat next to her. She stood up, and stood by her son's side. "My son, don't give up," she whispered, rubbing his back fondly. "I know it's too late for that Sophie girl, but maybe you'll find someone else."

Justin leaned in towards his mother, resting his head against her chest. Her arms came up, cradling his head, and she reached up, stroking his soft blonde hair.

"It's too late, Mother," he whispered.

"All you have to do is produce an heir," his mother continued. "You don't have to do anything else; just make an heir. Maybe you can find a woman you can love and you can make her your—"

"I don't want a mistress, Mother," Justin said, pulling away, her hands still gripping his head lightly. "I don't want to be like Father." He swallowed, leaning back into his mother's warm body. "I don't want to be like him at all. I want to marry the woman I love."

Sarah held her son's head gently in her hands, her face saddened. "I don't know what to say," she said, her fingers tangled in his hair. "But, I'll always be there for you. I love you, my son."

Justin trembled, his hands reaching up, holding his mother tightly. "Mother," he breathed, his eyes stinging. He blinked, and salty water rushed down his cheeks. "Thank you."

Her hand reached down, drying his tears with utter tenderness. It ached her knowing that her son was in the pit of despair. The Queen ran her thumb over her son's soft cheek, whipping away the salty tears from his flesh.

"My son . . ."

* * *

><p>Justin sat in the large white tub, water lapped around his body. His face was dull, staring out the window with longing. He stared at the small red and blue birds that sat on the branches, chirping and nuzzling against each other. They then flapped their wings, leaving the branch, and flew off. He envied them. They could open their wings up, and fly away. They could be free. The Prince sunk deeper into the tub, the water coming up to his nose. The door opened, and Booth stepped in.<p>

"Your highness, your father has instructed me to tell you to wear this suit for the party," the man-servant said, hanging up the fancy black suit with white trim up on a hook on the door.

Justin's eyes glanced up to it, and sighed, bubbles forming under the water.

"Your father has also instructed me to tell you that the engagement ring is located on your desk," Booth continued.

Justin's head left the water, and rested against the back of the tub. "Thank you," the Prince breathed.

Booth nodded, and left the Prince in the bathroom alone. Justin blinked, and dunked his head under the water. After a few moments, he surfaced, and gasped, water running down his face and pooled back into the water below him. He reached up, parting his bangs, and smoothed his golden locks back. He glanced back outside, wishing he could fly like a bird so he could be free from the Kingdom's cold, hard grasp.

* * *

><p>Dukes and duchesses, lords and other high-ranking people were invited to his proposal party. He had been to these types of parties many times. They were boring, nonetheless. Justin watched what was happening before him. It was déjà vu. He was living in a life of endless parties, mindless gossip—a charade of boredom. High-ranking officials from Sophie's Kingdom were also there. Ever since the war ended, they had reaffirmed their relationship with each other. Not too long ago, his cousin married a cousin of the other Kingdom, ensuring peace. Now it was Justin's turn to wed.<p>

The Prince watched as members of his engagement party dance in the centre of the floor. Annabeth gripped Justin's limp arm, staring at him. "Why don't we dance?" she inquired, a large smile on her lips.

Justin's dull eyes looked at her. "I don't want to," he groaned.

"Why not?" she asked sharply. "This is our engagement party."

Justin hummed in his throat, turning to look away. Annabeth glared at him, and stood up. "Justin, I want to dance now," she ordered.

The blonde Prince just stared at her with dead eyes.

"_Now_, Justin."

He could feel his headache start again, and he decided it was best to just agree with what she wanted. Justin took Annabeth's hand, and she beamed like the morning sun, her anger quickly melted away and forgotten.

"That's better."

He was pulled onto the dance floor, and they assumed the dancing position. Annabeth reared her head up, trying to look elegant and divine. Justin's face was deadpan. The Princess glared at him.

"Smile, Justin," she said, rearing her head up in an air of arrogance. "Look the part."

The Prince stared at her, and cracked a fake, half-smile. Annabeth huffed, and shook her head. "For God's sake, try to learn how to smile," she hissed.

Justin looked away, staring at the clouds above. They were thick, white, and very fluffy as they drifted across the heavens lazily. It was a beautiful day, to be quite honest. His mind started to wonder as he barely paid any attention to what he was doing, causing him to bump into another couple.

"Sorry," the Prince muttered.

Annabeth glanced at the other couple, and sternly looked at the Prince she was dancing with. "What's gotten into you?" she snarled. "Get your head out of the clouds."

He could feel the corners of his mouth twitch. He liked the clouds much more than he liked being with her. Justin could see his father in the corner of his eye, along with Annabeth's father, who was a rather short and obese man. The King approached his son and soon-to-be fiancée.

"Son," the older man called, causing the couple to pause in their place, "may I speak with you?"

Justin pulled away from Annabeth, and nodded. "Yes, Father," he breathed, just happy to get away from the woman.

"Then come with me," the King said, his hands behind his back, and walked curtly away.

Justin followed his father, soon joining with the other King. The other heavy-set man smiled at the blonde. "Ah, Justin, good day," he said.

"Yes, good day," Justin breathed, his eyes hooded.

"Now, Justin, as you know, you are to propose to Annabeth in the gazebo," his father said in a stale voice. "Do you have the ring?"

Justin robotically took the small red box from his breast pocket, showing it to his father.

"Good," the King said.

"Now, Justin," Annabeth's father began, "as you know, you must produce an heir to the throne. Please make it a boy—female children won't do you any good, even though I love my daughter very much, I just wished I could have had a boy sometimes." He chuckled at himself. "You will produce handsome heirs to the throne since you're such a handsome man yourself."

Justin's face was still.

"And as you know, my daughter gets sick very easily. You can't serve her certain foods."

The other King listed the foods that Annabeth could not eat, and Justin half-heartedly listened. His father clasped his hand over his son's shoulder, who winced at the force.

"Well, son, I would think it's time to propose to Annabeth," the first King said with a grin. "I will inform everyone to go to the gazebo. Go, now."

Justin nodded, pocketing the engagement ring, and he walked away from the Kings. He approached the gazebo, where he saw his mother. She frowned, looking at her son.

"My son," she whispered, opening her arms to him.

"Mother," he breathed, approaching her, allowing her to embrace him. "This is it."

"I know, I know," she whispered tenderly, her voice as smooth as Asian silk, her hand stroking his hair. "I'm still here."

"I know, Mother," Justin said softly, pulling away, looking at her.

The Queen leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pulled away from his mother, and went to the gazebo. He stood there, and he could see the crowd forming around the small construction. Justin could feel all eyes upon him as he fumbled with the small box inside his pocket. Soon, Annabeth stood before him, and he was on his knee, pulling out the box, and opened it.

"Annabeth, would you be my wife," he said, his voice as dead as his face and eyes.

Annabeth grinned, and nodded her head. "Yes, I will be your wife," she said, her eyes filled with utter selfishness.

Justin wanted to scream.

* * *

><p>His life was an endless circle of hell. Justin was certain of it. Satan came in the form of a lovely English woman and Hell followed after her. It was now night and the party still continued. His father laughed, holding up his wine glass, clinking it with Annabeth's father's wine glass. Justin sat in his seat, his life playing out before him. The soft music of the musicians played in the background, but most of it was drowned out by the people who were at the party. There was laughter, loud chatter, the clinking of china. The only sad face within the mass of people was Justin and his mother's.<p>

Justin wanted to run. He wanted to keep running.

He stood up from his seat, breaKkng from Annabeth's vice grip. She turned up to him. "Justin, what's wrong?" she inquired.

"N-nothing, I just need some fresh air," he said, his hand reaching up to touch his brow.

He had to go. He had to leave this hell. Justin stood up from his seat; his gaze met his mother's for just a moment. She looked at him as if to ask: "What's wrong?" He shook his head, and left the glamour of the large ball room. Fresh air greeted his hot face, and he walked quickly from the building and into the large courtyard. The further he got from the palace, the faster he moved. Soon, he was running as he reached the end of the courtyard. He gasped for air, sweat beading from his face and it slid down his face and neck. He opened his eyes, noticing the large statue of a man on a horse. It was his great-great grandfather. Justin stared at the statue, wishing that he was as strong as that man. The Prince leaned against the statue, and he glanced up. The heavens were dotted with white stars and the moon hung in the sky like a perfect round circle wrapped in dark sheets.

"Why?" he asked the sky. "Why?"

Justin hung his head before rearing his head back to the heavens.

"What? Are you bored up there, so to entertain yourself you make my life a living hell?" the Prince sneered, pressing his hands to his heaving chest. "I never did anything? Why can't I be happy? That's all I ever wanted! I just want to be happy!" He shivered, tears rolling down his face.

He pushed himself from the statue, and stood there. He wanted to die. Justin swallowed sharply at the dark thought that popped into his head. He wanted to die. The Prince rubbed his damp throat. His heart was pounding in his breast. Justin walked away, and moved to a tree, leaning against it. Below, he saw the city that he would visit from time to time. There was a ledge. He approached it, and glanced down. The fall was a dangerous one—rocks jutted from the earth, and if he were to land on one, that would be it. His life; over in a split second. He would feel no pain. He stared blankly at the rocks, considering his dark thoughts.

Just jump.

Just _jump_.

He exhaled, then inhaled as he held out his arms to his sides, his eyes closed, and he was about to fall forward.

"Don't do it."

Justin jerked, and whipped around, his icy blue eyes popping open. There, behind him, was a cloaked being. He could tell it was a woman, because from the view of her hood, he could see a feminine face with icy blue eyes. The Prince stared at her face, which was completely stoic, blank, and cleaned of all emotion. But her eyes: they were filled with fearfulness, worry, and confusion. Where had she come from? Justin looked at her, his eyes scanning her darkened face.

"Don't do it. Don't kill yourself."


	3. Saved by an Angel

Saved by an Angel

III

"Don't do it," the woman repeated sharply. She had an accent. He was unable to place what type it was since he had never heard it before.

"Leave me alone," Justin growled to the woman. "I'm not sure how you got into the palace, but I don't care, just leave me alone!"

"I'm not going to leave you alone," the woman stated. "Just give me your hand." The woman lifted up her hand, the cloak falling around her outstretched arm and it hung loosely from the limb. "Please."

Justin stared at her outstretched hand. Most of her was blanketed by shadows—it was hard for him to place the woman. But the light of the full moon outlined her body and gave her frame some details. She was a thin woman, and about his size. He had never met such a tall woman before. It was odd to say the least.

"Just leave me alone," Justin spat. "I want to die. I don't care if I go to Hell for committing suicide. It's better than being here!" He whipped around, staring down at the jagged rocks below.

"Going to Hell?" the woman repeated, her voice sounded confused. "Oh, right . . . I keep forgetting where I am," she muttered under her breath.

Justin blinked, and turned back to stare at her quizzing expression. The woman's head jolted up, and he could tell that she was staring into his eyes. Her eyes were blue as well, just like his. They were beautiful.

"You've got your whole life ahead of you—"

"No I don't," Justin said, his voice covered in malice. "My life has been robbed from me!"

"By who?"

"_Them_," he snarled, pointing back towards the palace.

The woman glanced to where he was pointing, and then looked right back at him. "Who is 'them'?" she inquired.

"Don't you know who I am?" Justin asked, amazing that she did not at least recognize him. Wasn't she from this Kingdom?

"Yeah, you're the man going to waste his life by jumping off this here cliff," the woman said.

"I am Prince Justin vaan Hart III," Justin snapped.

"A Prince?" the woman shouted in her awe and amazement. It was the first time that she had any real emotion in her voice. "Ah, dude, you've got the life!"

"I beg your pardon?" Justin inquired, his upper lip curled up. What was a "dude?"

"You're a Prince, I bet you've got everything you could ever want or need!" the woman said in a loud voice. "You've got a great life."

Justin frowned, and shook his head sadly. "No, it's not what you think," he said in a low tone. "It's not always great."

"What do you mean?" the woman inquired, stepping forward.

Justin was silent as he reared his head to the heavens. "Miss, it's not such a good life," he whispered. "It's not great when you have your life decided for you, it's not great when people tell you what you can do, who you associate with . . . who you marry . . ."

The woman was silent.

"It's not as glamorous as many think," Justin whispered. "Now go away. Leave me in peace."

"No, I won't go, I won't let you kill yourself," the woman said sternly. "I won't let you waste yourself."

Justin looked at her, his eyes narrowed and his brows tightly furrowed. "Why do you care?" he inquired bitterly.

"I _care_ because I'm _involved_," the woman said, reaching up, removing the hood that covered her face.

Justin blinked, and sharply inhaled. This woman was . . . beautiful, albeit very butch looking. Her face was slender and a narrow neck held her head high and proud. Her red hair was cut so short (way too short for a female) that she looked like a man from behind. Her hair in the front stuck up like a triangle and feathered out to the sides. She had circle gold earrings that were about the size of two thumbnails. Under her left eye was a beauty mark and two other marks were on her exposed neck. There was also a long scar over her right eyebrow. Justin had never seen a woman with scars before. And he never saw such a tall woman before. He stood up to her shoulder, and he felt himself craning his neck to look into her eyes.

Justin blinked again, and swallowed, turning away from her.

"I don't understand," the Prince breathed.

The woman approached him, and reached out to touch his arm with her fingertips. "I know what you're talking about," she said seriously. "You feel trapped, right?"

Justin nodded numbly.

"You can escape."

"_How_?" Justin snapped, looking at her. "How? Please, explain that to me."

"Only you hold the keys to your prison."

Justin stared at her. "No, I think that's my father," he said blandly.

The woman stared at him with a stoic expression. "You are obviously depressed," she said. "I can see it. I can sense it. You see the glass as half-empty now, right?"

Justin was silent.

"Look at it as another beautiful day," the woman said, a smile blooming on her lips, which then faded. "The world is not as bleak as it may seem right now, but beauty will come if you hang on long enough."

He stared at the woman before him. The Prince was voiceless, and he opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing came out. She spoke with so much kindness and wisdom, yet she looked so unhappy herself with that zombie-like stare. The woman held out her hand.

"Please, I know what it feels like when life spins out of control," she said, looking down at her covered feet. "You feel helpless, weak; but you have the power to correct what is going wrong in your life, you just need to look hard enough for it. Once that is acquired, life will start to become happy and bright." The woman gave him a smile; a smile that was loving and kind. "I should know: I used to be in that dark place, but with the help of my closest friend, I'm here today and not in the ground; not six feet under. I did not know him when he saved me, and yet he is my best friend now and he pulled me out of so much crap in my life. You do not know me, but that won't stop me from saving a life; it never did in the past, and it sure as hell won't now."

Justin continued to look at her. His chest did not feel as constricted or cold—he felt happy and warm. He looked at her offered hand, and he took it into his. The woman flashed him a pointed grin. She knew she had won this battle. She pulled him away (she was strong), and she flung him away from the cliff, and laughed. Justin looked at her, his hand flying to his flat breast, right over his thumping heart.

"Goodness, you're strong," he breathed.

The woman grinned. "Listen, your highness, only the weak give in to the power of life," she said, pointing at her finger directly at him. "Are you weak, your highness?"

"N-no," Justin said meekly.

"What?" she inquired, cupping her hand over the shell of her ear. "I can't hear you."

"I said no!" Justin said loudly with blooming confidence.

"That's right!" she said in an uproarious voice. "You're a Goddamn Prince! Hold your head up high, and keep fighting! You've made it this far, and your life has just begun! Live it out to the fullest. You've only got one chance at life; make the best of it. Do I make myself clear?"

Justin stared slack-jawed at her for a moment. "Yes, ma'am," he breathed.

"I can't hear you!"

"Yes, ma'am!" he shouted.

She smiled at him gently, and nodded her head. "Good," she breathed. "It was nice meeting you, your highness, but I must take my leave." She pulled her hood back over her head. "Oh, yeah, I'd tell your guards at the back of this place to do their job; they're asleep on the job. That's how I got in." The woman started to walk off.

Justin shivered, and shook his head. "Wait!" he called, reaching out with his gloved hand.

The woman stopped, turning to look at him.

"What is your name?" the Prince called. "I want to know the name of my savior."

The woman stared at him with her icy blue eyes, and then she grinned. "The name's Maria Fitzgerald, your highness; don't forget it," she called, and waved her slender hand as she vanished into the darkness of the forest that stood behind the immense palace.

Justin stood there for a moment, looking off to where she had walked, her name replying itself in his head:

_Maria Fitzgerald._

* * *

><p>Justin glanced outside of the window. It was a bright and cheerful day, so he tried to see it as just that and not as another day with the she-devil. So far, the mystery woman's advice had worked.<p>

"Would you say that it is a lovely day, Father, Mother?" Justin called.

His father glanced up from his book, and glanced outside of the window. "Yes, it is," he said, returning to what he had been reading.

His mother smiled up at her son, her tea cup gripped in her hands gently. "You look better today, my dear," she noted. "How did you sleep?"

Justin turned to his mother, and gave her a sincere smile. "Wonderfully," he answered truthfully.

"I'm glad," she said with a soothing tone. "You do look alive again."

Justin only continued to smile at his loving mother. His father placed his book down on his lap, and reached up to remove his specs from his face. "Son, as you know, your brother is coming to visit us so we can talk about new lands to conquer, as you know."

Justin nodded his head, and reached up, out of habit, to tug at the end of his bow tie. "Yes, father," he said.

"And Annabeth's father will join us," he said. "Tomorrow, I want you to go hunting with me."

"Of course, Father."

"Then I want you to spend the rest of your day with Annabeth."

Justin cringed, but Maria's words echoed in his head: "_Live it out to the fullest. You've only got one chance at life; make the best of it_." He inhaled sharply, and nodded his head.

"Yes, Father."

"Good," the King answered quickly as he returned to his book.

Justin returned to glance out of the window. It was, indeed, a lovely day.

* * *

><p>It was not long until his brother and his young, delicate wife entered the picture. His brother was a short-haired brunette with acid green eyes and freckles over his face and neck. He wore a dark suit that made him look dull and boring (it was the reason why Justin wore bright and cheerful clothes; <em>he<em> did not want to look dull and boring). His wife was young and gentle-looking. It seemed that if one was to touch her, she would shatter like glass. She had long brown hair that was let down over her shoulders. She smiled a petite smile to her brother-in-law.

"How are you, Justin?" she asked, holding out her arms to him.

"Hello, Christine," he breathed, leaning in to kiss both of her soft cheeks. "How are you?"

"I am fine," she said kindly, just like a gentlewoman should. "You look as handsome as ever."

Justin smiled at her. "You still are as beautiful as the day I met you," he said.

"Careful there, Brother, that's your sister-in-law you're talking to," his brother joked, wrapping his arm around his wife's waist.

Justin looked at his brother and smiled as his mother gave a gentle hug to Christine behind him. "Brother, long time no see," he said. "How are things?"

"Never been better, Brother," Dorian, Justin's brother, said jubilantly. He clapped his hand over his brother's shoulder. "So, I hear you _finally_ got engaged."

"Yes."

"I also hear she's a viper, eh?" Dorian said.

"_Yes_."

Justin's brother laughed. "Oh, Brother, all you have to do is marry her and have a male heir," he said. "Then you can have any other woman you want."

Justin was silent, staring at his brother, whom as fond of brothel houses and many young, beautiful women. Maybe it was not as lost as he thought it was. He could marry Annabeth, have an heir, and then search for a woman whom he could love. But she would be his _mistress_, not his wife. But life was not very fair, was it?

"Justin?"

The blonde male looked up to stare at his younger brother, who looked concerned.

"Are you alright?" he inquired.

"Y-yes, sorry," Justin stammered. "Lost in thought. Please, you must meet Annabeth. She would like to meet you and Christine."

* * *

><p>"I am so happy to meet you," Annabeth said with a joyful voice as she hugged Christine and Dorian.<p>

They were in the tea room, as his mother loved to call it. It was where the family would have tea and cookies and speak to each other. His father went back to his still warm seat, and sat down in it, just like he always did. The cousins still had his body imprinted in it from numerous times sitting in it. He sat down, and crossed his legs. His sons sat down in their seats; Justin taking his seat near the window and Dorian sitting in the opposite seat near an empty chair (for his young wife to sit in, of course).

"You are so beautiful," Christine said to Annabeth.

The other female smiled proudly, and held up her head slightly. "I know," she said as she closed her eyes.

Justin rolled his eyes as he mimicked what his father's sitting pose as he leaned into the back of the chair. Christine did not know how to respond to Annabeth's remark, but she merely smiled. The Queen took her seat in her chair, and glanced up at her son.

"So, how are things at the palace?" she inquired.

"Good, so far," Vincent said boastfully.

"I see you've still failed to produce an heir," the King retorted to say, staring at Dorian with fiery eyes as Christine loyally took her seat by her husband.

Dorian let out a small, nervous laugh. "Well, we've still been trying," he said. "Don't worry, Father, you will have a male heir. Make it by the end of this year!"

Justin glanced up at his brother. If Dorian would continue with his mistresses like he was now, he would _have_ a child; a _bastard_ child by the end of the year. The blonde would not be surprised if he did get one of his many mistresses pregnant.

"That's more like it," the King said, snapping his fingers, and a servant materialized next to him. "Bring us some hot tea and cookies."

"Yes, your highness," the servant said with a quick tongue. He scuffled away to get the needed drink and food.

Annabeth took her seat next to her fiancé, and grabbed his arm. Justin wanted to pull away, but he was still in his place.

"Oh, I forgot to mention," the Queen said, resting her hands in her lap. "Have you heard of the recent slaughter of pigs and sheep here in our country?"

"Oh, yes, I've heard of that," Dorian said.

Justin nearly forgot about that. Near his palace, the capital of Ingary, and the small cities that speckled the large valley, pigs and sheep had turned up being slaughtered and almost completely eaten. Farmers spread word to each other to warn of the beast that was killing their live stalk, and all the farmers of that said area had been on high alert for the beast.

"Well, whatever it is, the thing must be big," Justin insisted.

"Yes, they found claw prints of the beast," Annabeth said quickly. "I saw it in the newspaper. The claw is huge!"

"Do you still have that news clipping?" Christine inquired. "I would love to see it."

"I do believe that I still have it," Annabeth answered.

Once the servant returned to the room with the platter of tea and cookies, Justin's fiancée ordered: "You, there is a newspaper still on the table in my room. Go get it!"

"Yes, your grace," he said, and he left the room quickly.

Justin reached up to rub at his temples tenderly.

"I wonder what the beast could be?" Christine asked, her hand resting against her chin.

Annabeth turned to Justin. "Justin, darling, why don't you hunt the beast and bring back its head to display over the fireplace," she said.

Dorian laughed. "What a trophy that could be!" he exclaimed. "The creature's head here at the castle. Or we can stuff it."

Justine's eyes flickered over to his brother. "I guess it would be better than some old dear's head," he said. "And plus, we'll be helping the farmers protect their animals."

"Then bring back the monster's head," the King said. "We'll see if we can find it today when we will go hunting."

The servant returned with the newspaper, and Annabeth snatched it from his grip. "Now, go away," she sneered to the servant.

He nodded mutely, and left the room. The Queen brought her cup to her lips, and stared at the drawing in the front of the newspaper. "Is that it?" she inquired, pointing at the front page.

"Yes," Annabeth answered. She held out the newspaper, and Justin and the others stared at it. In bold, the font read:

**Beast out hunting farm animals! All farmers beware!**

Under that said title was the photograph on the claw print. Compared to the human hand next to it, it was massive. That human hand was only the size of two fingernails put together when it was next to the imprint in the mud.

"What a beast!" Dorian said, leaning forward in his chair, taking a cookie and started to eat it. He gently pushed on his brother's shoulder. "That thing's head on our wall would be fantastic, eh, Brother?"

Justin stared at the monochromatic photograph. "Yes," he said softly.

Annabeth's father laughed. It was a laugh that came from his chest almost. "Yes, that would be a grand trophy!" he laughed. "Get that for my daughter right away, Justin!"

The blonde Prince nodded. "Yes, sir," he said dejectedly.

The chatter continued like that: the group spoke about the beast, and Justin glanced out the window into the world, thinking of Maria. Where was she? And most importantly: _who_ was she?

* * *

><p>Justin looked over the map of China and India. His father made little red marks on certain areas, and his brother stared at those marked areas. His father and the father of Annabeth loomed over the maps in thought.<p>

"Well, if we are able to open a trade route, we can have more trading ports," Dorian stated. "More ports we have, the stronger we will become."

"But we must take over the land before we can do that, Son," Justin's father said.

"I suggest we take over the capital," Annabeth's father said. "Get rid of their ruler and we establish our own government. Just overthrow them with brute force."

Justin was barely paying any attention to the trio as he sat in his large chair; a cigar held loosely in his fingers as he thought deeply to himself. He was thinking of what that woman had told him the night before. She spoke of wisdom that he could only want. She was a curious woman. The Prince hardly knew her—just for those ten or so minutes—but she gave off an odd vibe that no woman he had ever met possessed. It was wild and untamed, yet it was tamed. It was odd. She was composed for a moment, and then she went off on her wild rant about how life should be treasured.

"Justin."

The blonde blinked, and glanced up. "Yes?" he asked, bringing his cigar to his lips.

"Did you hear me?" his father inquired.

"Yes," Justin said, blowing out a puff of black smoke from his mouth. "And I agree."

His father stared at his eldest son with a stern look. "Are you daydreaming again?" he growled the question.

Justin glanced up at his father with a meek expression.

"Get your head from the clouds and back on Earth where it belongs," the King said sternly.

Justin hung his head, and brought his cigar back to his mouth. "Sorry," he muttered around a puff of smoke that he blew from his mouth.

"Good," his father said. "Now, get over here and give us your opinion."

Justin stood up, placing his cigar between his lips, and stood up, staring at the maps. "Well, destroy the capitals, enforce our will," he said, his finger hovering over the maps. "After that, we'll set up our churches to convert them and make them our people."

"Yes, that was what I thought," Justin's father said sharply. "Enforce the white man's burden to civilize these poor people."

"Beat them into the ground," Dorian added.

Justin was silent as he smoked his cigar, smoothly blowing out a puff of smoke from his mouth. To have colonies was part of having a Kingdom—one must be stronger by taking over other countries. It was mere fact. Justin pulled himself from the table as his father, his soon-to-be father-in-law, and his brother bicker about how they would take over those countries as Justin opened a window. Fresh air gently blew in, touching Justin's hot face, and he blew out another puff of smoke. He wondered briefly about the welfare of his once-true-love. He would have to see her again some time, that is, _if_ he could find her.


	4. The Beast

**This is a weird chapter. Ehh.**

* * *

><p>The Beast<p>

IV

"Bows and arrows? Why not guns, Father?"

The King turned to stare at his son with a still expression as he slung his container of arrows over his shoulder.

"Any man can kill a beast with a gun, but a real man can kill using only bows and arrows," the King replied sharply.

Justin was silent, slinging his container of arrows over his shoulder, and grabbed his bow tightly in his hand. The young man glanced over the bow with interest, and started to follow his father into the forest. His father was silent as they trudged on.

"Father," Justin called.

"Yes?"

"I was wanted to ask you a question."

"And that would be?"

"Well, I wanted if it was possible to see my friends," Justin said, perking up a little at the thought.

"Justin, you are soon to be King," his father said, stepping over a fallen tree log. "You cannot continue with frivolous things such as your little poor friends."

Justin was silent, and he bit his lip. "Well, I'm not King now," he said. "Can I still see them?"

The King stopped, and let out a deep sigh as he stared at his son with a pointed look. "Justin, you cannot see them anymore," he said. "They are not of royalty."

"But, Father, those are my friends," Justin said, stopping to stare at his father.

The King blinked, his face stiff. "Fine, but when you become King, no more of this nonsense," he said as he continued to walk. "Those of royalty stay with those of royalty."

Justin furrowed his brows, and shifted the bow from hand to hand. This was it. His father was going to make sure that he would be caged up in the hell of the royals. He felt like a wild animal trapped in a cage much too small for him to keep it in. He looked at the hard ground, and pressed his heel of his boot into that said earth.

"Justin."

The Prince looked up, and followed his father. He approached his side, and glanced to his oldest son. He hushed the man, and walked forward with careful silence, Justin trudging after his father. The King reared his head, covered by the thicket of the bushes and such. There, before them, was a rather large buck. The creature was silent as it nibbled at the leaves that hung low on a tree. The King turned to look at his son.

"Go," he breathed roughly to his son.

Justin reached for an arrow, and notched it to his bow. He erected his body, and aimed, staring directly at the deer. It was peaceful as it ate the leaves, blissfully unaware on what its fate would soon be.

Twigs broke.

A thump.

A body thrust forward.

There was a loud gasp.

The male deer was dead, but not by Justin and his arrows, no. By something not human. It was what Justin would label as a . . . _dragon_. It was huge with large folded wings as they shifted from time to time along with its long, thick tail. In the maw of the great beast was the deer. It was obviously dead—it was a quick death; a painless one. The jaws of the creature were huge; it could easily crush a man's head in those jaws. It had short red fluffed up between two long brown, ram-like horns. Its scales glimmered in the sun. The scales of the beast were human-toned; a few shades darker than Justin's.

The King was slack-jawed as he stared at the dragon. Had it not noticed them?

"Kill it," he told his son in a raspy whisper. "Kill it! If you're a man, then kill it!"

The dragon held the deer in its mouth tightly, its teeth ripping into the flesh and red blood rolled down and dripped on the grass below. Justin was in awe of the beast.

"Why are you so still?" the King growled. "Shoot it."

The dragon's pointed ear twitched and it turned to where the Prince and the King were hiding. Both froze. The creature walked forward, coming towards the two humans. In one fast motion, ripping away the bush that covered them. Justin and the King jumped back, horrified and scared. The King watched them with a blank expression. The icy blue eyes of the beast flickered to Justin, and the expression softened. The dragon stared at the Prince, the deer still held in its mouth. Justin stared at the creature with a calming expression. He could sense that the beast would not harm them. But there was something about this creature. He noticed two beauty marks on its neck, and one on its left cheek. There were two gold earrings that hung from the ears, a scar over the right eye . . . Those blue eyes looked familiar. They looked kind. They looked much like _Maria's_.

Justin stared in utter silence as the wind was knocked out of him.

No. That could not be Maria. Maria was a _human_.

The King was horrified, his eyes wide, and his jaw slack.

A smile formed on the snout of the beast as it looked at Justin, and it walked away from the two humans. It had a certain type of elegance about it—it was a proud creature. The King stumbled to his feet, and readied his bow to shoot at the creature. Justin shot up, knocking away the bow.

"No!" the Prince hollered.

The dragon looked at the two humans again, paused, and then started to walk again. It vanished into the forest, but the King wanted to follow it.

"That thing's been killing the farm animals!" he screeched. "Why are you protecting it? Let's kill it!"

"Father, no!"

The King glared at his oldest son, and ran through the thicket. He paused when he saw the creature walking proudly through the forest; head held high with the deer dangling from its mouth. The older male drew an arrow, and fired it, hitting the trunk of a tree next to the dragon's head. The creature jolted, spooked, and whipped around to see the human.

"Father, stop!" Justin called, rushing to his father's side.

The dragon then started to run, thinking that it would be best. The creature ran through the forest like a scared buck (the creature wished that it knew how to fly now). The King took an inhale of stale air, and turned to glare at his son. There was a loud, predominate slap sound that echoed in the forest. Justin's cheek throbbed, and started to turn red.

"What were you thinking, you little idiot?" the King snapped. "You saw that thing! It could have killed us!"

Justin opened his eyes to stare at his father. "You don't understand, Father," the Prince said, reaching up to nurse his aching cheek. "That creature looked like someone I met."

"_Someone you met_?" the King snarled. "What in the name of God are you babbling? That thing could kill a person!"

Justin swallowed, suddenly losing his ability to speak.

"You little idiot," the King huffed, shifting like an enraged horse. "Now I must call the royal guards to slay the beast. Let's go." He made a sharp turn, and moved to the general direction of the palace.

Justin rubbed at his throbbing cheek, turning back to where the beast was; thinking deeply to himself. Was that Maria? They had such striking similar characteristics. No. Maria was human. Justin shook his head. The young Prince got obsessed with women so easily—first Sophie and now this Maria. Why so?

He followed his father out of the forest.

* * *

><p>"You saw the beast?" Dorian demanded. "And you didn't kill it!"<p>

"I-it's hard to explain," Justin said in a low tone, his heart still racing in his breast. The Prince watched as his father spoke to a large group of royal guards with a threatening tone. "It's very hard to explain, please believe me."

"But what if that thing kills someone," Christine whispered, her eyes wide. "And you let it go to be free out there."

"Please, Christine," Justin begged. "I don't think it will harm anyone. It did not harm father or me."

"But it could hunt humans soon!" Dorian bellowed, throwing his hands up in the air. "We have to slay it like the monster it is!"

Justin shifted uncomfortably in his spot. "She never did anything," he said, but then he clamped his mouth closed. Had he just said "she?"

Dorian arched an eyebrow. "'_She'_? You addressed it as if it was a person!" he yelled, throwing his arms into the air.

"Brother, _please_," Justin pleaded.

There were the sounds of footsteps on gravel, and Justin whipped around and watched as the royal guards moved into the forest and his father approach the two brothers and the only female of the group. The King cast the coldest, hardest glare to his blonde son, which caused the Prince to tense up as his father walked thunderously past them.

"Goodness, I've never seen Father that mad before," Dorian stated. "You did it now."

Justin glared at his brother before following his father into the palace. "Father! If you would just listen to me!" he called, reaching out for his father's arm.

The Queen entered the hall in which she heard the voices of her sons and their footsteps. Her eyes glanced between her enraged husband and her desperate blonde son. "What is going on?" she inquired, staring at both of them.

Justin whipped around to see his mother. "Mother, please, help me," he begged, his hands out in her direction.

"Don't beg to your mother like some child," the King hissed to his son.

"Just listen to me, I beg of you! Make the guards come back," Justin called, his face desperate. "You don't understand."

"What's going on?" the Queen asked, her voice more forceful.

Dorian and his young wife entered the hallway, and the brother reached up with his hand, pushing away a stray lock of hair from his slender face. "Brother let the beast go," he announced. "Yes, he and Father saw the creature, and he let it go."

The queen was taken aback, and she approached her son, touching his shoulder softly. "You saw the beast?" she inquired. "W-what?"

"Your stupid son let it get away," the King snapped, throwing up his arm, and it moved back to his side. "I was going to slay it, but Justin prevented me to do so. Thanks to him, the creature escaped."

The Queen stared at her son with a confused face. "I don't understand," she breathed.

Justin's hands gripped hers as he looked at her. "It looked like a woman I met from before," he explained. "Please understand."

The doors that formed near the entrance of another hallway burst open, and Annabeth with her father entered the room. Justin groaned, turning away from his mother to have his back to the young and loud Princess as his hand moved to rub his temple, and soon his hand slipped to grip his face.

"Ah, Justin, darling," the Princess called out, her arms open. She paused, and glanced around, noticing the tense atmosphere. "What's wrong?"

"Your husband-to-be saw the wanted beast and did not kill it," Dorian said.

Justin glared at his brother from his parted fingers. "Little rat," he muttered under his breath.

"What? You saw the beast and you did not kill it?" Annabeth yelled, her cheeks hot and red. "Why did you do that?"

"If everyone will be silent I will tell!" Justin hollered.

The atmosphere was still tense, but it grew deathly silent. All that could be heard was his father's heavy angered breathing along with Annabeth's. Justin glanced around, making sure that everything was quite and that he would be able to speak.

"Thank you," Justin huffed. He took in a breath of stale air, and swallowed it down. "That dragon looked familiar. It looked like a woman a met two days ago. Father, call back the guards. I don't want that dragon to get hurt. Please."

The King stared at his son. "Do you have any idea what you are saying?" he growled. "_That dragon looked like a woman you met_. You sound like a mad man!"

"But, wait," the Queen said quickly, coming to her son's aid, "what if it is true?"

"Now _you_ sound mad," the King said in malice. "Enough of this. The moment my men capture the beast, it's off with its head."

Justin hung his head, and he could feel his heart racing in his breast. "No, please," he begged, snapping up his head.

"No! Enough. This is over with."

And with that, the king left. Annabeth glared at Justin before leaving herself. Her father stared at his soon-to-be son-in-law, shook his head, and followed his daughter. Dorian and Christine left, and soon there was only the queen. Justin looked at her.

"You must believe me," he breathed.

The Queen stared at her son, unsure of what to say. What he said did sound crazy and quite unrealistic. But when she stared into her son's scared blues eyes, she nodded her head; her eyes closed. "I will talk to your father," she breathed. "Okay?"

"Thank you . . ."

The Queen nodded her head, and followed where her husband had gone. Justin stared blankly out the window, his hands moving up to reach to his pockets, and they slipped inside. Was he right? Was that dragon really Maria? Was he right? Was he getting that obsessed with her that he was imagining? Maybe his father was correct: he really had gone over his rocker.


	5. Dragoness

Dragoness

V

Justin paced with anxiety and confusion. His brain was reeling with many questions: what if that creature was her? It was highly unlikely, but it may just be her. The creature looked like the young mystery woman that had saved his life. But then again: what if he was wrong and that creature was not her at all, and was really a murderous being. But why did it stare at him with a kind smile? He growled like a wolf, reaching up with his white gloved-hands, slapping them against his face. The Prince was doing crazy—he was sure of it.

"Justin, dear?"

He jumped, whipping around to see is cool, calm mother. Her hands hung at her midsection, her eyes searching his cringing face. "Dear, son, what troubles you," she whispered, her eyebrows knitted together. "Are you still worried about your dragon?"

"Yes," Justin breathed. "What did Father say?"

"He says he won't kill the dragon, but tie it up," the Queen said. "He said if you can prove that the dragon is really a woman you met, then they will not kill it."

Justin visibly relaxed.

"But, explain something to me," the Queen said, stepping forward. "If this dragon is a woman, when did you meet this woman?"

"I told you: two nights ago."

"No, _when_. I have never seen you with another woman."

Justin swallowed, staring at his mother. "She is no mistress, mother," the Prince stated. He hung his head. He did not want to tell his mother that he was going to commit suicide when he met his savior; he could only imagine her horror. "I went outside—during the party. I wanted to get some fresh air; and she made her way into the castle grounds. She did not know that she was in our castle grounds. She was a foreigner, judging by her accent. I led her off the grounds." Yes, it was a lie, but the truth was horrible.

The Queen watched her son, analyzing him with stern eyes. She then started to relax, approaching his side. "My son, I know you are worried, but I will not allow your father to kill an innocent woman, if the creature is a woman," she breathed, placing a gentle hand to her son's hand. "I promise."

Justin nodded his head, a tiny smile on his lips. "Thank you, Mother," he stated.

"But you must wait. Your father told the guards not to kill the dragon once they catch it. But we must wait. Come, let's get some tea."

* * *

><p>Justin was staring dully over the rim of his tea cup, staring outside of the window. His mother was looking at him, worried. Annabeth, however, had a stern look of disapproval as she sat in her grand seat, staring hard at Justin. It had been exactly an hour since the King and his soldiers went out to search for the beast.<p>

"Justin, you're being stupid," Annabeth stated with a frown, taking a sip from her cup. "It's just a monster. You're just thinking of some excuse to not kill it."

"I am not," Justin said, trying to keep his voice level. "That dragon looked like Maria. And as far as I am concerned, that creature is Maria. I will not stop until I know for a fact that it is her or it is not her."

The Princess shook her head. "I think that you are fearful of the creature and you just don't want to slay it out of boyish fear," Annabeth said with a snobbish voice. "You're obsessing over the creature."

Justin could feel his upper lip twitch, but he quickly took a drink from his tea cup. He wanted to lash out at her, but he kept silent, as a gentleman should. But she did have a point—in a way: he was being a little obsessive. But he had to. If that was Maria, only he could save her, and repay the debt he owed.

"Watch it be some wild creature," Annabeth said, bringing up her cup to drink her hot beverage. "Watch it try to slay you as you approach it."

Justin bit his tongue, and looked away, deep in his thoughts. It had been almost two hours, and nothing was heard about the beast. He was worried; very worried, and his collar was wet from his waterfall-like sweat. It would not be until thirty minutes more until there was a painful animalistic howl that filtered in the atmosphere. Justin jolted, his eyes wide in his surprise. His mother gasped, and Annabeth jumped up, rushing to the window to peer out.

"There it is!" Annabeth cried jubilantly, pointing at the window. "It is the monster! Look at it; it is a beast, and an ugly one at that."

It took a moment for what she had said to register in his head, but when it did, he placed his cup down on the table next to him, and bolted from his seat, looking out. There he saw the dragon, tied with ropes, struggle against the soldiers trying to bring it down. His mother joined the duo, staring outside of the window.

"It—it's huge," she rasped out, her hand reaching up to her mouth.

Justin rushed from the window, stared at the scene it utter horror, and out the room. He was swift, not caring what type of looks he was getting from some of the servants. All he knew was that he had to get to her as quickly as he could. He pushed open the doors that led outside, and went to where the dragon was being held. The beast thrashed wildly, trying to break free from being held. Some soldiers, who noticed the on-coming Prince, held out their hands, stopping the blonde Prince in his steps.

"Sire, stop," one said firmly.

"Don't get any closer," the other stated.

There was a roar, and Justin looked up. Men struggled as they yanked at the ropes they were ripping, forcing the dragon to stop its bucking. The pale-scaled dragon was wild like a horse not ready to be tamed. Its tail lashed, claws unleashed; slashing out, blood flying. Its wings were bound, and the beast was trying to free them back shaking them violently. Justin watched in horror, seeing as a few soldiers yanked at their rope, forcibly pulling the mighty beast to the ground with a loud thud.

"Stop! You're hurting her!" Justin cried, glaring at the two men in front of him. "Stop them! I order you to stop!"

Swords were drawn, as were rifles. They were prepared if the beast decided to lunge at them. The dragon snarled, practically foaming at the mouth, glaring at all the men around it with seething loathing. Justin watched, and in a burst of bravery (or stupidity), he pushed past the two soldiers that stood in his way, and approached the beast that was clawing at the ground.

"You're highness!" the first soldier yelped, approaching the Prince, and grabbed his arm.

Justin wretched his arm away from the grip of the other man; he never tore his gaze from the dragon. "Maria!" he called.

Silence tore through the atmosphere. The struggling stopped in its place, the beast looked right at him—all that could be heard was the labored breathing of the creature. The King, who was on his horse, watched from a distance, staring at his son, interested in what the young man was going to do. Annabeth and the Queen stepped outside, their jaws slack, and Dorian and his wife watched from the open window on the second floor.

Silence was utter.

Justin smiled, pulling himself from the protective solider, and moved slightly closer to the dragon. "Maria," he repeated, his blue eyes on hers. "Is it really you?"

The dragon was silent, but her blue eyes with yellow sclera were wide with fear and confusion. She glanced around, unsure of what the soldiers with their weapons drawn were going to do. She trembled as her mind was bombarded with images of once was: a man with a gun pointed at her face, her blood splattering on the hard ground below, men screaming; the stench of dead bodies that littered the earth she ran across. She was paralyzed.

Justin could sense her distress, and moved closer; some of the soldiers shifted uncertainly. The Prince crouched down, looking at her, noticing that her mouth was tied shut. He reached across, ripping off the rope (with some difficulty), and tossed it away. The dragon opened her mouth, working her jaws.

"Maria," he called again. "Are you okay?"

The beast started to calm, and she closed her eyes, taking in everything. She was fine. She was safe now. The dragon slowly reared her head, closed her mouth, and snorted. "These assholes attacked me, tied me up, and I'm in Goddamn pain—I'm perfectly dandy," she snarled, but there was a playfulness to her tone, Justin noted.

Despite her usage of foul language, he chuckled. The soldiers and everyone else looked surprised that she had spoken, and they stared in awe. Maria leaned forward, her head leveled with the Prince's.

"I'm surprised you recognize me," she said with a growing smirk.

Justin looked at her with cool composure. "You don't look much different," he said, reaching up with his gloved hand, touching one of her bleeding cuts. "They didn't hurt you too badly, did they?"

"I've had worse," Maria answered in a whisper, her bright eyes darkening quickly. "Um, Prince, could you tell them to get me untied?"

"O-oh, yes," Justin said. He turned his head sharply to the soldiers. "Well, untie her, you morons. She's in pain!"

The soldiers jumped, some using their swords and knifes to cut the dragon free. Maria opened her massive wingspan, shaking the blood and dirt off from her skin. She slumped back to the ground, heaving large breathes. Justin pressed his hand to her chin, staring at her.

"Why didn't you just fly away from them?" he asked. "You wouldn't be in pain like you are now."

"I can't fly," she muttered.

"You're a dragon and you can't fly," Justin said, chuckling at the irony.

"My situation's complicated," Maria said sharply.

Justin only chuckled, and Maria couldn't help but to crack a small smile on her elongated face. The King then approached, and slid off the back of his horse. He looked confused and surprised. He stared at the dragon, as if he was trying to understand what was happening and what was happening was true. "Well, ma'am, I'm so sorry," the King said after a moment of silence. "My son was right about you, then."

Maria only nodded her head, her face cleaned of all emotion.

"Again, I am sorry," the King said, his eyes glancing over her. "I thought you were just some beast."

"No, I understand," Maria said, shifting her weight. "You've got to defend your Kingdom. But, trust your son a little more."

The King flinched.

"I will call some people to tend to your wounds," the King quickly stated.

The older man waved his hand, and then motioned for them to clean Maria's wounds. They rushed to get their supplies. The King was silent as he looked to his son. Justin stared at his father, hoping for an apology for the way he acted to him, but got nothing in response. _Typical_. Annabeth approached, staring at Maria in awe. "So, you're a person," she said. "Anyways, my name is Annabeth, soon to be Queen of this fair Kingdom. Who are you?

Maria was taken aback by the sudden surprise appearance of the woman, but did not show it. "Um, yes," she said. "My name is Maria Fitzgerald."

"So, if you are a human, turn into a human."

Maria scowled, and her eyes narrowed. "I can't," she said. "You see, I'm under a . . . _spell_."

Justin sent an "I told you so" look to his father, but the King ignored it with a grunt passing by his lips. Maria's eyes flickered between them, reading their body language, and then to the soldiers who were ready to kill her if she were to ever attack. They turned their heads away in their shame, not wanting to look at her face. Maria puffed her chest, and smirked proudly. The Queen approached, her hand over her breast.

"What type of a spell?" she inquired gently.

Maria turned to stare at the other female. "Well, um, I'm not sure," she muttered. "I'm not familiar with magic, you see. My tale is long, but let's just say that I'm not from . . . around here." She waved her clawed hand in the air dismissively. "Per say."

"Where are you from?" Annabeth inquired.

Maria swallowed, her ears erect. "Well, I'm from . . . Washington D.C.," she said in a bland tone.

The group was not familiar with the name.

"Where is that?"

"Far from here."

"Well, you can talk more about yourself at dinner," the King said. "You will be human then, right?"

"Dinner is at night, yes?"

"Of course."

"Then yes, my spell will allow me to be human," Maria stated. "I turn back into a human every night. That's how this damn spell works. Dragon by day, human by night."

Some men with bandages, large bowls of water and sponges approached her aching and bloody body. They kneeled at her wounded flesh, and started to clean her wounds. Maria hissed and twitched as the wet sponges pressed against her body, and Justin approached her, placing his hand to her thick neck. Maria looked at him, and grinned toothily at him.

"I'm fine," she told the Prince, her skin twitching at the subtle touches of the wet sponges. "it just stung."

"Well, when you're fixed up, you will join us for dinner," the King said. "As an apology, of course."

Maria nodded, one man at her side bandaging her wounds. "Okay, thank you, sire," she said. "But first I need to get my things. They are in the woods where you hogtied me."

The King looked her over, and then nodded. "Alright," he said sternly. "Justin, take her to get her things. Make sure to guide her, after all—dragon or not—she is a lady."

Justin bobbed his head. "Yes, sir," he stated.

"Good, I will get the chefs to prepare dinner," the King said, turning on his heel, and started to order the soldiers away.

Justin snorted, a stern frown on his lips. Annabeth moved closer to Maria, staring up at her with wide eyes. "So you are a human," she said. "And to think I wanted your head above the fireplace."

Maria cringed, staring hard at the small woman in front of her, and then forced a wicked-looKing grin. "Thank God that didn't happen," she said around closed sharp teeth. "You'd be a murderer."

Annabeth twisted her lips, but then placed a gentle façade smile to her features. The men finished tending to the dragon female's wounds, and scurried off. Maria stood up, and shook herself. "Well, I would love to have dinner with all you fine people," she said. "But first—my stuff."

"Of course," the Queen stated, placing her hand to Annabeth's shoulder. "Come, Annabeth, let's prepare for dinner."

Annabeth nodded her head, glanced at Maria, and then followed the Queen, telling her how she was going to tell her father. Justin looked at the blood stain in his glove, and touched it gently with his fingers, clasping his hand and it dropped to his side. He turned to look up at Maria, and smiled.

"Come, Miss Fitzgerald," Justin said. "Let's go retrieve your things."

Maria followed the blonde Prince, feeling the eyes of the guards upon her. Both were silent as they left the palace grounds, and entered the beginnings of the forest. Justin hand his hand out to touch her shoulder, and she glanced over to him. His blue eyes were upon hers.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"Pardon, your highness."

Justin paused, turned to look at her with a frown. "You're about to enter Hell itself," he said with a bland tone.

"You're exaggerating a bit," Maria chuckled, her long snout twitched.

"No, I'm not, Miss Fitzgerald," Justin said, reaching up to his head, realizing that he was not wearing his top hat. His hand dropped down. "They're not always nice. You saw my father."

"He's like a block of ice. No offence."

Justin pitched his nose with his fingers, and shook his head. "Oh, no, he is," the Prince muttered. "It's how he's been all my life."

Maria frowned, turning to look away. "I'm sorry," she said, rotating her head to stare at him with a softened expression. "But your mother . . . she seems kind."

Justin's chest warmed up, and he nodded his head. "Oh, yes, Mother," he said kindly. "You will love Mother. She is kind, warm—a gentlewoman."

The dragon-woman grinned, her claw-hand reaching up to pat him sweetly. "Well, you've got your mother," she said, detaching her hand from him, and walked forward through the forest, her tail curling up.

Justin grinned sweetly, and rushed up by her side again, his hands placed behind his back as he looked at her. "Where are you from?" he inquired.

"I told you, Washington D.C."

"No, where _is_ that."

Maria swallowed sharply, and reared up her head. "Well, you'll think I need to be in the loony bin if I tell ya," she said.

"What? 'Loony bin'?"

"Um, I may sound crazy."

"I'm talking to a dragon," Justin noted, arching an eyebrow to her.

Maria closed her mouth, and looked at him from the corner of her eyes. She sighed, and closed her eyes. "I'm from another world," she said bluntly.

Justin paused, staring at her as Maria sat down on the grass.

"What?"

"You heard," Maria said, her long tongue running over her dry outer lips. "I'm not from this world."

Justin glanced around, unsure of what to say.

"My country government was messing with something, and it opened a door," Maria stated. "A door here." She tapped her clawed digit into the dirt. "Me and some of my troops went through, and I've lost them."

"Troops?"

"Yes, I'm a soldier; a Lieutenant, really."

Justin was obviously stunned and surprised, and his face showed those emotions. She a troop? A soldier? The Prince looked up at her, a calming emotion rolled over his body. "But you're a woman," the Prince said.

"Things are different in my world," Maria said with a pointed grin. "I'm also from the future in my world."

Justin looked at her as his eyes rolled over her frame. "Future?" he whispered.

"Oh, yeah," Maria said, scratching the back of her neck. "I'm from the year 2067."

Justin felt his heart skip a beat. She was from the future nearly a couple hundred years ahead of him.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Maria hissed with her upper lip jerking. "The government could hurt you for this and I could get in a lotta trouble. So let's keep this hush-hush."

Justin nodded his head, and clasped his mouth. "I understand," he stated quickly. "I won't say anything."

Maria grinned. "Good," she said, and started to move again.

The Prince's mind was reeling with questions, and he walked along side her still, his eyes on her. "So, you're a soldier," he said. "Lieutenant, I mean . . ."

"That's correct."

"D-does that mean you've seen combat?"

Maria's eyes darkened, and her mouth clasped tightly shut. "Yeah," she finally snarled out.

Justin then decided by the way she answered his question, that he would not question her further on the subject of war. But a woman at war? Unheard of. The woman's place was at the home, and to tend to the children and her family. Were things _that_ different where she came from?

"So, um, Miss Fitzgerald—"

"I'm just Maria, you're highness."

"Then I'm Justin to you," the Prince said in return with a small smirk.

"Justin it is. As you were saying."

"Oh, right," the blonde said. "Do you have children back in your world?"

"Nope."

"A husband?"

"Nope."

"O-oh," Justin said, remembering how young she looked as a human. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six."

She was older than him? By two years? She looked so young.

"You should be married by now."

"Things are different at my home world; I told you that," Maria snickered. "People don't have to marry if they don't want to—wait, well, there are still places in the world where people get married off young, but most people aren't like that. Marriage isn't such a big deal anymore."

"But you're a woman," Justin said. "Women shouldn't work. They should stay at home."

Maria turned her head to look at him with a wry smirk. "Oh, Prince-boy, more women work in the future than men do," she said. "In fact, there has been a rise in stay-at-home daddies."

Justin blinked, trying to imagine a man cooking, tending to the children and cleaning, and wait for the wife to return home from work. He let out a loud laugh. "This is crazy!" he laughed, his hand hitting his forehead. "Men cooking and cleaning? That's a woman's job."

"Not as much in the future," Maria snickered, her lips curling into a playful snarl. "I bet if I were to bring you into the future, most women would kill you for saying that." She snorted playfully. "I can't cook, I'm a total slob—I leave clothes strung all over the floor. That was until I entered the army. Damn, they straightened out that bad habit; sort of."

She walked off, and Justin jubilantly followed her.

"So, you can't cook?"

"Sure, unless you want everything to be burnt to blackness."

The Prince laughed.

"That's right, I can only cook food that is microwavable," she snickered.

Justin paused, staring right at her. "What is . . . microwavable?" he asked. "Is that some sort of device?"

Maria looked at him, stepping forward to part some bushes that stood in her way. "Um, yes, for cooking—it's called a microwave," she said. The dragon paused, wondering how she would explain its function better to him. "You put precooked food into it and it warms it up for you."

"Oh, sounds convenient," the Prince said, stepping over a fallen log and went through the parted bushes.

"Yeah, but you've got to cook the food before hand, and since I don't know how, I just buy precooked food from the store."

Her steps were heavy as she trudged through dead foliage and blades of green grass.

"You can do that? How simple!"

Maria snickered. "Yeah, it is," she said, glancing around, recognizing her surroundings. "This way. My shit's this way."

Justin pursed his lips, frowning at her foul language, but he said nothing. Maria sniffed at the air, and followed her nose.

"So, do you have any family?"

"Yes, my father and mother and my two sisters," she said brightly, her tail practically wagging. She then frowned, and looked down. "It's been a year since I last saw them."

"A year? Why?"

"The army keeps me busy," she whispered. "But I talk to them every day. Well, used to." Maria then started to grow silent. "I want this damn curse off me and I want to go home."

Justin looked at her, his chest constricting. He then beamed, an idea hitting him like a brick wall, rushed to her front, stopping her in her tracks. "I know someone who can help you," he said quickly.

Maria's face lit up like a lantern as she stared with childlike delight at him. "Really?" she asked, standing up on her hind legs, and she stared down at him with a pleased grin. "Who?"

"My friends," the Prince began, "one's a wizard. I'm pretty sure that he can get you back home."

"Oh! That's wonderful! I just need to find my squad now."

Justin smiled, and placed his hand on her large hand-like claw. "I'm sure you will find them," he said with a calm, even tone. "But let's retrieve your things."

Maria nodded her head happily. It had seemed that he had brought some feeling of peace to her. She moved on, a bounce in her step, and he couldn't help but to chuckle. They reached a small clearing, and saw a large bag, and the dead corpse of the deer she had caught, which was being devoured by a large grey wolf. The beast glanced up at the gapping dragon, horrified.

"Hey! That's mine!" Maria snapped, charging at the wolf, which quickly fled from the scene. She glanced down, seeing the blood carrion, which was also being infected with flies. She sighed dejectedly, and pushed the corpse away. "You can have it."

She pushed it into the bushes, and the wolf returned, grabbing the deer by the neck and pulled it away. Justin snorted, the stench of death in the air was thick. "Don't worry, we've got better food back at the palace," he noted, bending down to pick up her bag, which was coloured several shades of dark green. It looked like the bushes almost.

"Hey, I'll get that."

"No, it's a gentleman's job to help the woman," Justin said with a grin. He then took her floating claw, and pressed a kiss to the top.

Maria smirked, but blushed slightly at his action as she pulled back her claw, and she adjusted her wings to lay limp on her back. "Your mother raised you well," she said, walking forward.

Justin smiled, and followed after her.


	6. To Be Human

To Be Human

VI

"How are your wounds, Maria?"

The dragon glanced down at her once bleeding limbs that were now still covered with bandages. There were some spots of blood that had seeped through the thick cloth and made itself shown. That was when Justin realized that her skin was two to three shades darker than his (which was odd because she was a redhead), and that scars littered her body: her back, her stomach, her chest; _scars_. Her claws lightly brushed against the sensitive hide, and she growled.

"Still ache a little, but they've stopped bleeding," she said, placing her claw down on the ground below.

The palace was beautiful. They were in the immense courtyard that was lined with thick bushes of flowers and they were all neatly trimmed in the shapes of boxes. It was so elegant that the dragon-soldier felt out of place in such a fine palace; like a spot of dirt on a fine white tuxedo; that was how she felt. Maria sat up, and strutted with overwhelming confidence (such bravado at times did it seem), staring at her covered wounds, daring them to hurt; daring them to bleed.

"Yep, they stopped bleeding," she said, moving back to the small table, and sat down where her chair would have gone. She erected her head proudly and her tail curled around her feet much like a trained dog would.

Justin smiled at her, crossing his legs as he brought his cup of tea to his lips. Maria glanced around, noticing the royal guards at every spot of the grounds, and they were like statues. Like the royal guards at Buckingham Palace. She briefly wondered what would happen if she approached one and taunted him. Would he move? She was tempted to try. Maria shook her head of those childish thoughts.

"So, um, who were these friends you spoke of earlier?"

The Prince glanced up at the slender dragon. "Oh, yes, Wizard Howl and his—" Justin paused, and then continued, "his wife Sophie. They are dear friends of mine."

Maria's dual-coloured eyes turned to look at him. "Why the pause?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Justin pressed his lips together. He then let out a grunt, and turned to look up at her. "Sophie—I once loved her," he whispered.

"Really?"

"Yes, but she loved that Howl more than me," Justin said with a sad smile. "So I gave her up."

"That's very honorable."

"Honorable or not, I was still unhappy," Justin muttered. He felt odd to discuss his feelings to someone other than his mother. He then perked up, taKing a cracker from a small dish. "Are you hungry?"

"Um, yeah," Maria said, eyeing him as he chewed on his cracker. She looked at her dish that had her assortment of fruit slices and crackers. She carefully moved her large claw to the table, and grabbed the small, delicate plate between both of her long-nailed digits, and lifted up the plate. Maria then opened her mouth, tossing all the small items of food into her mouth before swallowing it all in one gulp.

Justin chuckled, making sure not to spit out his tea onto his legs or lap.

"Works for me," Maria said, placing the plate delicately back on the table.

Justin glanced up at her, placing his cup down, a smile on his lips. "So, tell me more about your time and world," he said.

Maria glanced down, her ears perking up. "Like what?" she inquired with a small grin.

The Prince shrugged his shoulders, placing his hands into his lap. "Well, goodness, I'm not sure," he said, turning off to look in another direction to get some ideas. "Well, for one, does the place you come from have a King and Queen?"

"No King and Queen, just a president and the first lady, or president and the first man," Maria answered robotically. She then grinned. "They rule and such, just like your father and mother do. Anything else?"

"There's so much," he said. "Do you have magic in your world?"

"No, only in fairytale books," Maria said, tail sweeping from side to side like a lazy cat's. "I can see your world is seeped in magic. As I searched for my men, I saw all sorts of spells and magic. It freaked me out. I do plan to search for my squad after this."

"I will inform my friends about your quest," Justin said. "I'm sure that they would love to help you."

Maria smiled kindly at the blonde male next to her. "That means a lot, Justin," she said.

Justin stared at her for a moment, and flushed at her smile, turning away from her gaze. He fixed himself in his chair as he spoke, "So, your world. Um, what are social standards there? Are they like here?"

"Um, sorta."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, where I come from, men don't kiss women's hands as much as your world and time does," Maria said, staring at the back of her claw where he had kissed her. "In reality, you're the first one to do that for me."

Justin seemed flabbergasted. "Truly?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, nowadays it's just handshakes," Maria replied curtly. "Social norms are different. You might blush if I say some things your world may consider wrong."

The Prince stared at her. "Like what?" he asked, a little too curious.

"We can kiss in public."

"Y-you mean . . . a _kiss_," Justin said, gesturing at his lips.

"Yeah, I used to do it all the time," Maria laughed uproariously at the memories. "Just like the time I had—" She paused, remembering who she was talking to, and cut herself off. "Never mind."

Justin stared at her, unsure of what to say. He took another cracker, and started to slowly eat at it in the awkward silence. Maria shifted from foot to foot, once in a while glancing at the silent Prince.

"Anything else you want to know?"

Justin hummed in his throat for a while. "You said that you are a soldier, is that correct?" he inquired.

"Yeah."

"So, it's alright for women to join the armed forces?"

"Oh, yeah, we've been able to do that for a while," Maria said with a grin. "It's only been the last forty years that we've been able to see combat." She frowned at that. "Before that women could do anything else but actually fight in a war. They would have to be at the sidelines, but they learned everything else a man learned: how to work a gun, train for combat, and whatnot."

Justin stared at her. She was stiff, and her eyes focused out into nowhere—it was like she was trying to suppress a memory; a horrible memory. Something was telling him that she had seen war; that she had fought in war (which she had confirmed); that she killed. He reached across, and tenderly touched her shoulder.

"Maria?"

She jolted, and glanced down at him with wide eyes. "Y-yeah?" she asked. She took in a breath of air, to calm herself, and she stared at him. "Yes?"

He drew his hand back, resting it back on his lap. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just fine," she said hurriedly. "Just some bad memories."

Justin stared at her for a moment, and nodded his head. "Alright, you seemed . . . darkly pensive," he whispered. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, but let's not talk about me in war, alright," she said, reaching across to pat him gently on the head, careful not to mess his neatly kempt hair. "It brings back dark and . . . _disturbing_ memories." She shuttered, and drew her claw back, staring at her open palm with a sad expression.

Was she still dealing with the traumas of war? Justin had never gone to war, so he had no idea what it was like.

"But let me ask you this, Justin," Maria said, snapping the Prince out of his thoughts. "What do you think of war?"

Justin blinked, and looked away from his new friend, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not sure," he said. "I heard it is an honorable thing to do for your country and King; romantic even, that is how I see war. To protect those who rule over you and to save your family. It is honorable and good."

How foolish. People in this time were so innocent. Maria's eyes darkened, and he barely recognized her. She looked like a totally different person now. "It's not honorable," she snarled, pounding her claw into the dirt. "It's not beautiful; it's not romantic as you might think it is. No. It's hell on Earth. It's not even doing the right thing most of the time. You kill people that don't deserve it. You ruin lives. War does nothing but take loved ones away; daughters and sons being sent back home in a box for their families to bury them." She took a sharp inhale of breath, and continued. "War is terrible. I wished I never joined it; I wished I was never drafted at times."

He stared at her for a moment. He lost his voice. But when he saw the miserable look on the face of his new friend, he stood up, and approached her side. "Oh, Maria, I'm so sorry if I said anything to upset you," he whispered, placing a hand to her trembling neck. "Forgive me."

Her dual-coloured eyes turned to look at him, and she gave a snort. "It's o-okay," she said with a shaky grin. "You didn't know."

Justin rubbed at her neck to soothe her, and he was surprised at his own actions. Maria was also startled by his affectionate rub. But she quickly relished in it, and closed her eyes to his touch.

"Still, I'm sorry," the Prince said.

"You're forgiven," she replied, her tail whisked from side to side. "But let's not mention this again." She pressed a digit to her mouth. "The War may have been over for two years now, but I'm still a nutcase over it. My psychologist says I'm suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"Psychologist? Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?" Justin said, arching an eyebrow to the terms he was not familiar with.

Maria groaned, and slapped herself in the face. "Damn it," she muttered, "you don't know what those terms are." She fixed her form, and motioned for him to take his seat, which he did. "A psychologist studies the human mind—how we act, how we respond to certain things, how the personality is formed and whatnot. People who are messed up, like I am, seek treatment from these people."

"Oh, and what is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a disorder caused by, as the name suggests, by a traumatic event," Maria said matter-of-factly. "For me, the traumatic event was war, as for most soldiers. I still suffer from flashbacks and some emotional and mental distress."

"Oh," Justin whispered, brows furrowed.

"Yeah, so try not to talk about the war, smash pans in my ears, or jump me, especially from behind," Maria said, bobbing her head a little as spoke as if trying to make light of the situation. "Look at me, I'm just rambling on and on about crap. I barely know anything about you, other than you are a Prince. Talk."

Justin stared at her, mouth closed, eyes on hers, and then smiled. "Well, I like to hunt," he said.

"Oh, you're a hunter," Maria said. "Do you eat what you hunt?"

"Well, of course," Justin stated.

"Oh, okay," she said with a grin. "I always eat what I hunt; makes sense to me. What else?"

"Well, I like to read, and have tea with people," Justin said. "That's just about it."

Maria blinked, and frowned. "Sounds boring," she said bluntly. "Don't you do anything else?"

"Um, no," Justin said. "Why? What do you do?"

"Well, when I was a teenager, I loved to skateboard."

"Skate board?"

"Yeah, skateboard," Maria said. "It's an activity. Well, a skateboard is a board with wheels on it and you ride it. I loved doing that—still do. I used to do all sorts of tricks on rails and specialized ramps and such."

"Is it dangerous?" Justin inquired.

"Yeah, I broke a few bones doing it, but its hella fun," Maria said with a grin.

"How is breaking your bones fun?"

"Well, that's not fun, but skateboarding is fun. I think it's the adrenaline rush while doing it."

She was a strange woman. Maria was risky, obviously did not care if she hurt herself, and was rather manly. Where all women like this in the future? Justin took a sip from his cup, and looked up at her. Maria looked at him, and grinned a little.

"You think I'm odd, don'tcha?"

Justin blinked, unsure of what to say. "Well, I think it's odd that a woman would do such risky things," he admitted. "But I have to remember that you're from a different time." He paused. "Have things really changed that much for society?"

Maria nodded. "For most countries," she said with a shrug. "But, yeah, things did change. A lot."

He nodded his head, and looked to the sky, seeing that the sun was setting. "What a beautiful sunset," the Prince noted.

The dragon watched him. He was a lovely young man with handsome features . . . Wait, did he just say _sunset_? Maria snapped out of her trance, and looked to the sky with surprise. "Oh, shit!" she cried, jumping to her feet quickly. She glanced around, and saw some thick bushes that backed the forest, and leapt behind it. Justin looked at her with a strange face.

"Maria?" he called.

She held out her claw, still ducking behind the bushes, and waved her held out claw, as if telling him to wait. He stood up, cocking his head to the side. "Um, what are you doing?" he called, approaching the bush.

"Don't come near!" she cried.

Justin paused, staring at the bushes. Just then, there was a _poof_ sound and smoke appeared from behind the bushes. Justin looked with surprise, and stared. Was this part of the curse? Just then a human head appeared from behind the bushes. It was Maria's human shape, which he had seen before, but she was . . . _naked_. Even though the bush foliage blocked her body, he blushed furiously, and he whipped around.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, his head looking towards his castle.

"It's alright," Maria said with a chuckle. "Could you get my bag? It has my clothing."

Justin looked at the bag that was resting in a chair, and he approached it, grabbing it by the strap, and slowly backed closer to the bush, holding it out without looking at her. He felt her grab it and he moved away, still not looking, but he was also watching for anyone that might see her. It was also his male part of him that he had to protect a woman.

He heard the shuffling of clothing, and Justin tapped his foot. Was she getting into her dress? Did she even wear a dress? What about a corset? Women wore corsets. He assumed that women in the future also had to wear them. Right?

"Damn it!" Maria growled from behind the bushes.

"Um, are you alright?" Justin called.

"Yeah, my damn buttons, that's all," Maria said.

He waited a little while longer, and then her hand touched his shoulder. He glanced over, seeing the human-formed Maria that he saw on that fateful night. She was tall; he stood up to her shoulder. She did not wear a dress; in fact she wore a uniform. It looked like a military uniform (she was a soldier after all). She had some badges ranging from silver ones on her shoulders to red, white, and yellow ones on a square plate that sat on her breast pocket Her uniform was a pale green, and an interesting patch was plastered on her right arm. The patch was strange: it had a triangle shape at the top, and eye-shape in the middle, and two lines going under the "eye." Justin, nevertheless, smiled.

"You're the tallest woman I've met," he said, bowing his head.

"Well, people grew taller since the Victorian Era," she said with a smirk, placing a hand to her hip. "AKA: your era."

Justin grinned, offering his open hand to her, and she gave him her hand, and he pressed a tender kiss to the top.

"You're such a gentleman," Maria said, looking as the sun started to vanish behind the mountains. "We've been out here for a while. Will your father fetch us?"

"Most likely," Justin said. "Might as well take a seat."

Both approached the table again, and he pulled out her seat, smiling at her. She looked a little surprised by the action, looking from the chair, to him, and back at the chair.

"Oh, thanks," Maria said, taking her seat.

"What? Men don't do that for women anymore?" Justin asked, stepping away from her.

"It does," Maria said. "But everyone does it for everyone. But it's rare in middle class and below. People don't do that as much in those classes. Upper-middle class and upper class do it still. I'm just not used to it as much as I should be. But men don't just do it; women do it as well as well."

Justin nodded, fully interesting in her world and time, and took his seat, staring at her. "Well, I think your tea is cold," he said.

Maria looked at her cup, and shrugged. "Eh, that's alright," she said, smiling right at the man before her. "I never liked tea. I'm more of a coffee person. Do you want to go back to the palace or just wait?"

"Just wait," Justin replied. "I really don't want to go back. I like it out here." He glanced to the sky. "It's beautiful out here; the sky alit like this. It looks so majestic like this."

Maria looked up to the sky, which was slathered with colours of red, orange, and pink. The sun was hanging low in the heavens now as it slowly moved closer to the mountains in the distance. She nodded her head, tugging at the corner of her uniform sleeve.

"Yes, it looks lovely," she admitted, her finger playing with the rim of her tea cup.

"Justin, there you are!" called a familiar voice.

The blonde cringed, knowing who it was. He then forced a quick smile, and turned to the voice. "Annabeth," he called.

The woman approached with her father. Annabeth looked to now human-shaped Maria with a surprised face, which matched that with her father's.

"Maria?" the Princess called.

"Hey," Maria greeted nonchalantly. "Surprised?"

Annabeth closed her mouth, staring at the redhead with shocked eyes. "I almost didn't recognize you," she said, eyeing the woman. She looked like a man, a very feminine man; with those clothing on, who could tell?

The father approached the uniformed woman, glancing her over. He had never seen another woman without a dress. "W-well, it is nice to meet you," he said, offering his hand to her, pressing a kiss to the top.

The soldier stared at her hand for a moment, and then she smiled. She would have to get used to this world quickly. "The pleasure is mine," Maria replied curtly, standing up from her seat, surprising the man with her height. "I presume that you want to collect us for the party?"

The father blinked, and then nodded. "Um, yes," Annabeth's father answered. "Come, let us go. And we must prepare you for the party, Maria. You're not properly dressed."

Maria twitched, staring at her uniform. "Um, alright," she said, bending down to pick up her back, and she slung it over her shoulder. She glanced to the table. "What about this? Should I help clean up?"

"What? No," Annabeth said with a smirk. "This is why we have servants, dear." She linked arms with her father, and both walked along.

Justin offered the tall woman his arm, and smiled at her. "Maria," he called, bowing deeply to her, top hat in hand.

She smiled, taking his arm gratefully. "Justin," Maria mimicked with a playful smile.

He chuckled, the odd duo walked along with the father and his daughter.


	7. Dinner with Stiffs

**Sorry for the delay. The reason: I decided to change Maria's history a little, so she's now a lieutenant rather than a sergeant. Why? Spoiler: I decided that she should go to West Point rather than joining the army. End of the story. I also went back and added/removed stuff.**

* * *

><p>Dinner with Stiffs<p>

VII

Maria felt awkward. Why? For one: she was the only woman in the palace that was wearing short hair and trousers (and the only woman they had ever seen them sport this). And two: she hated sticking out like a sore thumb in a crowd. Justin's mother was looking her over, curious to the oddly-clad woman.

"So, Maria," the Queen began, craning her head slightly to meet the taller woman's eyes, "it is a pleasure to see you in person—human, that is."

Maria smiled sweetly at the older woman in front of her. "Yes, your highness," she said, bowing her head. "So, when is the party?"

"Very soon," Justin's mother quickly answered. "And you . . . Um, what you are wearing is not proper."

Maria glanced down at her clothing, and frowned. "Where I come from, this is exceptionable," she said, and then grunted. "But then again, this is not my home. I must abide by your rules." She had the feeling that she would have to wear one of those thick dresses.

The Queen smiled gracefully at the short redhead. That was when Dorian and Christine approached, staring with interest and awe. Christine took a step closer to the tall and strange woman, glancing her over as if she were some new captured animal. "What a strange woman you are—you have short hair," she said with a bright smile, reaching over to touch the collar of Maria's uniform. "You wear such odd clothes—male clothes. You are a beautiful woman, though."

Maria watched as the other woman paw at her uniform, and the redhead backed away, still smiling at the other woman, though her eyes were narrowed. "Well, this is how I dress back at home," she said through her teeth. She did not like people touching her.

Dorian laughed gaily. "Well, my dear, you have not met me, but I am Dorian, brother to Justin," he said, grabbing her hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it. "And this is my wife Christine."

The other woman curtsied.

"Pleasure," she said, drawing her hand back and slipped it into her pocket. She then nodded to the woman at Dorian's side.

Annabeth then approached Justin, grabbing his arm. "Well, Maria, aren't you coming to the party?" she inquired with a small smile.

"W-well, am I?" she asked, turning to the Queen.

"Of course," the Queen answered briskly. She placed her hand to the other woman's shoulder. "Come, my dear, let me dress you." She drew Maria away from Justin, and he watched her go, smiling sweetly at her before his mother took her to the back of the palace.

* * *

><p>"I thought so," the Queen said to Maria as she clasped her hands with a smile. "You were my waist size when I was younger. A little tight on you, but this works well on you; it was always a little long on me when I was young."<p>

Maria stared at herself in the full length mirror as the women that helped her into the dress scattered away like gnats. The dress Maria was sporting was a soft, gay pink. She could barely breathe in the tight corset she was wearing, but she did look nice, in an odd, feminine way. Maria was used to looking a little butch, so this was an odd taste to her. The Queen at her side was wearing a soft green dress, her hair was tightly curled into a bun, and on top of that bun was her polished crown.

"I can barely breathe," Maria said, her hands resting at her midsection.

"Do you not wear corsets where you hail from?"

"Nope."

The Queen stared at Maria for a moment, but then smiled sweetly. "Well, it will be for this night only," she said. "Come, the party is expecting us." She held out her arm, and Maria linked with it.

The servants bowed as the Queen and the soldier left the room. Maria was biting her tongue, making sure not to speak. She was a little afraid. She was not sure what to do. And she hated the fact that she could not breathe without her chest and stomach aching.

"Oh, Maria, it has seemed that my son has taken a liking to you."

Maria turned her head, staring at the Queen with surprise. "Oh? How so?" she inquired, arching a thin eyebrow.

"Well, he was very worried about you," she replied. "He was pacing the room when he thought that you were the dragon and that he learned that my husband was tracking you. Good thing he was right, my husband would have surely killed you otherwise."

Maria narrowed her eyes at the thought as her mind trialed back to her cuts and bruises that the offensive soldiers gave her, which were hidden under her thick, long-sleeved blue and white dress she was wearing.

"But since my son was so persistent that you were that dragon, I told my husband not to kill you. Are you bruised badly?"

"Thank you, your highness," Maria replied curly as the duo made a sharp turn down a corridor. "And I'm fine. Thank you for your concern."

They walked down a hallway, which was brightly lit. Soon they entered a large room filled with guests. All were wearing fanciful and formal clothes, and they were standing and talking to each other; some holding drinks or canes, the woman looking petite and sweet. The room was elegant, Maria noticed. It reminded her of West Point, in a weird sort of way (she loved that academy to her very core). Man servants rushed about, silver platters delicately balanced on their fingertips, and on those platters were bite-sized food and slender glasses of wine. The atmosphere of the area she was in seemed perfect, but it really wasn't—it was gilded. The world that was cased in this room was heavily flawed. Deception, deceit, lies, loveless relationships, and money-hungriness lurked behind gorgeous clothing, fine exotic jewelry, gold and diamonds; crowns and tiaras. There was no real love here between man and wife, and children were only ways to get more power. Marriage was a political movement. Even though Maria knew that marriage was just a piece of paper, but she loved the idea behind it—love.

Maria closed her eyes, exhaling through her nostrils.

No wonder Justin felt in a state of panic and disorder. His life was a lie. When the Queen entered the said room, she released Maria's arm, whispering:

"I must walk with my husband. You go on, now."

Maria nodded her head, and she walked down the steps, no one really taking notice until she reached the last step. But when they did see her, most were gawking at her and her short hair. They had not seen a short-haired woman before, and Maria was growing used to their stares of confusion. She glanced around, wondering as to where the handsome Prince had gone. Her long-gloved hands were pressed together, and her eyes glancing around the heavily-populated room. She knew she would have to put her game face, I'm-a-sweet-innocent-little-woman face on. Maria would be around a bunch of egotistic morons. _Time to use the big words, Maria._

"The King and Queen!" cried a voice, and people started to clap their hands.

Maria watched as the married duo walked gracefully down the long staircase. She nodded to the Queen, who smiled right at her kindly. She stood there, and the voice said, again:

"The Prince and Princess!"

She glanced up, a smooth smile formed on her lips. Justin and Annabeth walked down the steps, and his blue eyes met with hers. He grinned at her. He was wearing a pale blue dress suit and a white shirt underneath that was paired with a white bowtie. Annabeth was wearing a pink and white floral-patterned dress that was long and flared out. She was smiling at the crowd, clinging to her fiancé's arm. The couple met Maria at the end of the staircase, and he smiled down at her.

"Maria," he breathed.

Annabeth blinked, staring at the redhead. "Maria," she said, her eyes wide with surprise. "Well, look at you. You don't look like a man—you could _almost_ pass as a gentlewoman."

"Just like you, right?" Maria said with a forced smile.

Annabeth twitched, but still smiled gracefully. "Indeed," she breathed. She turned up to Justin. "Excuse me, dear, but I am going to speak with my father."

She released Justin's arm, wanting to rid herself from the redhead's presence. Maria chuckled, a smug look on her face. Justin scooped up her hand, and pressed a kiss to it.

"You look lovely."

"Thank you, but I'm dying."

"Why so?" Justin inquired, cocking his head to the side.

"My damn corset is hurting me."

"Does it really hurt?"

"Yeah," Maria mumbled, rubbing at her waist.

"Don't you wear corsets where you come from?"

"No. We stopped wearing this shit eons ago," Maria said in a whisper, narrowing her eyes at the blonde Prince.

"Oh, right, you're from the future," he said in a whisper.

Maria glanced around the room, the soft playing of classical music filtered through the atmosphere over the laughter and idle chatter of the people who were there. There was the clanking of wine glasses touching each other, the scuffling of shoes on the hard floor, and the light in the room flushed over the rounded room. Justin watched as Maria surveyed the area much like a bird would. He chuckled blandly, staring at her.

"Welcome to my life, Maria," he said, stretching out his arm. "An endless parade of the same old thing—_this_."

Maria soaked it all in, staring at everything around her. "Huh, you're right," she said. "Give me a rope, a ledge, and a rickety chair." She said it humorously, but stopped when she saw the look the blonde gave her. "Sorry."

He smiled kindly at her. "It is alright," Justin said. "Do you have this where you come from?"

"Yeah, but I never really go unless I have to. You know, like when I get my medals." She reached up, still thinking that she was wearing her uniform so that she could show her metals, but they were not there. She frowned, and dropped her hand. "Forget it. I'll show you later."

He nodded his head, and offered his arm to her. She took it, and they walked, the Prince waving away servants as they tried to offer the duo wine and small items of food.

"So, what do we do?" Maria inquired.

"Um, do you want to talk to anyone?"

"Naw," Maria breathed.

"Then let's go outside to get some fresh air," Justin offered, sending her a smile. "There we can have some peace before dinner."

Maria beamed. "Sounds like a plan," she said.

Justin smiled, drawing her away from the large crowd, and pulled her outside. It was blissful; the atmosphere was cool, and it flushed over her warm skin. She really needed this. Maria took in a breath a fresh air, and exhaled loudly.

"It feels so nice out here," Maria said, closing her eyes in bliss.

Justin grinned, pulling her to a stone balcony, and sat her down. She grunted, touching her midsection, hating the constricting feeling of the corset around her. "I hate this thing," Maria hissed through her clenched teeth.

Justin looked at her waist. "Does it really hurt?" he inquired.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Justin said, his eyebrows furrowed. "I never knew corsets could hurt."

"Me neither," Maria said, turning up to look at him. She paused, glancing around. The night was peaceful and calm and the stars above twinkled brightly. "Will you get in trouble for being alone with me?"

"I'll just say that you would need some air," Justin said quickly. "Don't worry."

Maria nodded. "Alright," she said. "As you know, I can't stay long. I have to search for my troops."

"I understand," Justin said. "But I will inform my friends upon your arrival. They will be more than happy to help you."

"And where do they live?"

"In the Wastes." Justin turned, and pointed into the direction of where the large mass of land was located. "Over there."

"There? How will I find the home?"

"Oh, trust me, Maria, you'll know when you see Howl's moving castle."

Maria paused, her mind reeling. What was he talking about? A moving home? "Okay," she breathed. There was a small pause before a sneaky smile formed on her lips. "So, the Queen told me that you were worried about me."

Justin blushed, and turned his head away. "Well, yes, you saved my life," he said, turning his head up to look at her. "I was worried about you, and I wanted to repay you."

Maria smiled, leaning her head on her shoulder. "That's so sweet," she said. Pausing, she then smirked. "I believe that you're blushing, your highness." She poked at his cheek, and his flesh darkened another shade of red, which she could obviously see in the light outside.

Justin blinked, staring at her with wide eyes.

"You're cute," Maria said. "You're a good person; don't change."

He stared at her and a soft smile on his lips. There was a _pitter-patter_ of footsteps, and a voice came:

"Your highness, dinner is ready."

Justin turned to look at the redhead man-servant, and gave a curt nod. "Right, thank you," he said, standing up, and offered his arm to Maria. "Maria?"

She took his arm, smiling up at him.

* * *

><p>The dinner table was long and large; made of the finest oak and covered with the finest of dishes, silverware, and table cloth. Many chairs were lined up to the sides, and each one was taken by some person. In the centre of the table was a large vase of beautiful and colourful flowers. Maria stared at her plate and all her silverware. She had several forks, spoons, and knives. She remembered what to do: work from the outside and go inward, as her father once said when she went to her first, very-formal party. Her fingertips brushed against the silver of a fork, its coldness seeping through her gloves. Next to her sat Christine and at her right was a heavy-set man with a thick beard and moustache combined.<p>

"How are you enjoying the party, Maria?" Christine inquired, looking at the redhead.

Maria turned her head to the other woman, and smiled. "Fine," she answered. Her eyes moved up, seeing Justin sit by his wife-to-be. He looked up at her, and smiled. "This is fine."

She looked at her, and then smiled. "I'm happy for that," Christine said cheerfully.

Maria stared at the other woman. She seemed like a lovely woman, a flighty woman, but a lovely woman. The redhead stared at the silverware around her. Soon servants came bearing platters with food and drinks. They came around to each person, filling their goblets and placed large platters of food onto the table. The food was simmering and boy did it smell good. Maria was foaming practically at the mouth, and she swallowed sharply. After days of hunting for deer, sheep, and cattle (and eating the food raw), it was deliciously wonderful to have sauce-covered food that was cooked. Christine stared at the short redhead with a gentle smile.

"So, you look hungry," the other woman said.

Maria turned her head to the young Queen. "Oh, yes," she said, a small smile on her lips.

Annabeth glanced up, a small smirk on her lips. "I guess after hunting farmers' cattle and sheep, you would be hungry for cooked food," she said.

Justin eyed the woman at his right, a small frown on his lips. Maria smirked, staring at the woman across the table. "Well, I was hungry," she said simply as a servant placed food on her large plate. "I would believe you would do the same if you were hungry as well."

"But I wouldn't be a savage doing it," Annabeth insisted, placing a clean napkin on her lap.

"You're right, you wouldn't be a savage," Maria stated, grabbing one of her many forks. "You probably wouldn't last a day without some servant tending to you on hand and foot."

Annabeth glared at the other woman, and Maria smugly smirked. Justin glanced between them before taking a sip of his raw spirits, feeling awkward and unsure. The King stared at the redhead. This was the first time he had seen her human form, and he was surprised by her. However, he looked uninterested as he then turned back to his drink.

"Everyone," the King called to all those who were eating, "I would like to introduce our new guest at the palace: Maria Fitzgerald." He stretched out his hand to her.

There was a brief moment of the royal clapping to greet the dragon-lady.

"If you are wondering why she is here, and who she is, she is the dragon that has been eating the farmers' cattle and livestock."

There were gazes upon her and some side-whispering.

"She has informed us that she is under a frightful curse that turns her into that beast at daylight hours," the King continued. "But she will not hurt anyone or hunt anymore of farmers' livestock, is that right, Maria?"

"Can't make any promises," Maria said, taking a drink from her large cup. "When I'm hungry, I'm hungry." She paused. "But I'll certainly try!" Maria grinned,. lifting up her glass to show her good spirits.

Others glanced around, and then whispered again.

"Why is your hair so short," a man said. He was a little heavy-set and had a thick beard. "I've never seen a woman with such short hair."

"Well, where I come from, it's acceptable."

"And where do you hail?" asked a woman with strawberry-blonde hair.

"Over the sea," Maria vaguely answered.

There were more whisperings.

"So, you are a foreigner," another stated.

"That is correct, sir," Maria answered curtly. "I am looking for my family," she then lied. "They are out here, and I must search for them."

"And my friends will aid her with that," Justin said. "So everything is arranged."

"Good," the King said.

The rest of the dinner was idle chatter and other things. Maria ate until she couldn't eat anymore; she knew that she may have to go without food for a while, so eating as much as she could was a grand idea. Nevertheless, Maria had never been so bored in her life. She swore that her brain was melting into liquid and would dribble out of her ears at any moment. She looked up to Justin, who flashed her an "I told you so" look and then sighed deeply. The dragon-lady chuckled, and drank some more wine.

When the men started to leave (something about cigars and politics), Maria stood up, and went to the Prince's side. He looked at her, smiling softly.

"Believe me now?" he asked.

"Um, yeah," Maria said, holding back a dry chuckle. "God, this is awful. I wanted to die. Too much talk about stupid shit."

"And now you know why I wanted to."

Maria looked up at him, her hands at her midsection. The corset was killing her now. Justin stared at her, already knowing what was wrong.

"I will instruct the servants to fetch your clothes and rid you of the corset," Justin said.

"You're an angel," she muttered, her hands dropping to her side. "But I must leave tonight."

Justin's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You won't be staying the night?" he inquired.

"No, I can't stay in one of the rooms," Maria whispered. "I'll turn into a big-ass dragon by morning, and crush the bed. No. I must be on my way. And plus, I don't think your fiancé likes me."

"Ignore her," Justin said acidly. "She doesn't even like me. She just wants me to be her husband and so she can be Queen. That all she wants."

Maria frowned sourly. "Just remember what I told you, alright," she said, resting her hands on his gloved ones. "Stay strong. You'll come and visit me, right?"

"Of course, I always make time for my friends," Justin replied with a smile, over-lapping her hand with his. "I'll see you soon. And remember: Howl's castle moves with magic. You can't miss it. It's big and made of metal."

Maria nodded as several mental images of what it might look like entered her head. A large metal castle with a drawbridge that moved? What? She smiled. "Got it," she said. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Justin, and I wish you the best. Until we meet again."

Justin lifted her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the top. "Until we meet again, Maria," he said, his voice low and comforting.

Maria shivered, and grinned at him. He wasn't snotty or brash or ungentlemanly; he was a lovely man (and quite the looker too). She enjoyed his company, and wanted to stay a bit longer, but her troops needed her. She nodded her head again, and slowly walked away from him, their hands touching until she pulled away. He watched her go, his fingers rubbing against each other before he called a female servant to tend to her in the bedroom. After all, she needed help with the corset she was wearing.


	8. A Soldier's Curse

**I wasn't kidding when I said that this story would focus on Justin. x3 Here's Sophie, Howl, and the others! After seven chapters, you know.**

* * *

><p>A Soldier's Curse<p>

VIII

_Ring. Ring_.

Sophie twitched.

_Ring. Ring._

Sophie opened her eyes slowly, but sleep pulled them closed.

_Ring. Ring._

Howl sat up, glaring at the wall in front of him. "Who would be calling us at this hour?" he snarled, glancing down at his semi-sleeping wife.

Sophie groaned, and sat up tiredly. "I'll get it," she murmured, pushing aside the thick blankets and the numerous stuffed toys, throwing her legs out of the warm bed and on the cold floor below. She shivered, but stood up.

Howl stared at her for a moment, and as she left the room, he followed after her begrudgingly. Their enchanted phone was ringing loudly (it was enchanted because it was hooked up to telephone wires even though it wasn't physically). Grannie glanced from her bed as Calcifer awoke.

"Who would be calling us now?" the fire groaned, glancing up to stare at the clock. "It's almost twelve!"

Sophie picked up the receiver as she rubbed at her eyes. "Hello," the sliver-haired woman called as Markel and Howl approached her side.

"_Sophie?_"

Sophie blinked with surprise. She knew who this was. "Justin?" she called.

Howl groaned. "Justin, don't you have any concern for time," he said loudly enough for the blonde to hear. "We were trying to sleep."

"_I know, forgive me, Mr. Jenkins_," the Prince said. "_But this important_."

"What's wrong, Justin?" Sophie inquired as Markel clung to her side.

"_Well, it's a long story, but a friend of mine is heading towards you home_," Justin began. "_She really needs help, and I was hoping that you could help her_."

Sophie blinked. "She's coming here? At this time?" she asked, surprised. A woman out at night this late without a man was unheard of.

"_Yes, she insisted upon it_."

Howl snatched the receiver from his wife's hand, and said: "Why didn't you keep her at your palace, _Prince_."

He could hear the Prince sigh into the phone. "_She will explain it to you, but she needs help, and you and your magic can help her_," Justin then stated. "_I sent her into the Wastes to search for you. I know you must be grounded, right?_"

"Yes."

Sophie took the receiving end from her husband, and spoke softly into the phone, "Justin, we would be happy to help you."

Howl sent her a look, and Sophie glared at her spouse in return.

"_Oh, thank the Lord, Sophie. I knew you could help her. I told her to search for you. Could you at least put on some lights so she can find you? I know I'm asking a lot from you, but she can't stay here at the palace, for reasons she will explain, and I'm worried about her. I should have forced her to stay here . . . At least I knew she would have been safe . . ._"

"Justin, don't worry, we'll help her," she said in a comforting voice, sensing his obvious worry. Sophie turned to Calcifer. "Calcifer, we need you to turn on the lights very brightly."

The fire demon stared at her, and then sighed. "Fine," he said tiredly as he grabbed two pieces of wood from the hearth beside him. He placed them down, and then started to eat them up greedily. Soon he turned dark, and then there was an explosion of light that could have been seen from miles away as the grounded machine started to creak and moan as it moved.

* * *

><p>Maria had made it out of the palace without being noticed, which was nice. It was a dark night, and the moon was full tonight. She had a flashlight on as she walked though the "Wastes" as Justin called it, searching for the moving castle he had spoken of. Her head swiveled around the large landscape, her eyelids heavy with sleep. She closed her eyes for a moment, but then they popped open, knowing she had to continue.<p>

"Damn," she grunted, moving forward. "I should have listened to Justin and stayed. But no, I didn't. I had to be a pig-headed bitch about it." She hacked up some thick saliva, and spat it on the ground.

Her uniform crunched as she walked. She was determined to find this moving castle. Maria moved on for how long? She didn't know. Time smashed together to confuse the tired soldier. She clung to her shoulder bag, the light of her flashlight guiding her way. The soldier stepped over jagged rocks, making sure that she would not slip.

"Why didn't I just listen to him," she muttered to herself. "I should've listened. I bet he's worried about me. I should've stayed to piss off Annabeth more. Heh."

She hopped over a jutted rock, and continued along. She knew she had to search for her troops. Maria worried about them. Where they safe? Oh, she hoped so. She could never forgive herself if she lost her troops in this peculiar mission of theirs. Even in war, she had never left a soldier behind—dead or alive. Never. She could never do that to those whom she had to protect—she had a duty to return them to their families, either in person or in a casket. She would not fail. Tomorrow she would search for them, that is, if she could learn how to fly.

Maria paused, standing on a rather large flat rock. She looked like a meerkat with her erect pose and her hands tucked into her body. Her head swiveled around, taking in her surroundings, evaluating where she was.

"Okay, where is this castle . . .?" she muttered to herself before jumping from the rock she was on, and landed gracefully on the ground below. The Lieutenant snorted before rushing though the rocky hillside. "Howl! Hey, anyone there?"

She paused, noticing something out of the corner of her eye. The soldier turned her head towards it, and focused on it with an interested gaze. She saw some flashing—bright flashing—in the distance. Maria blinked, wondering what it could be.

Maybe . . . Just maybe it was them.

She perked up, and started to move in the direction. As Maria sprinted across the way, she noticed that the light was coming her way. She heard some metal creaking, and she stopped dead in her tracks. A flashback. Tanks. Metal being blown away. Helicopters. Jets. Bombs. Explosions. _Death_. She shivered, shaking her head as she winced her eyes closed.

"Hey! Hey! Are you Maria?"

Her eyes popped open, and she looked up in awe and amazement. There, before her, was an enormous metal monstrosity with wings, a "head", and four legs. It stopped before her, creaking again, and sat there, dark steam that blended into the dark sky poured from long tunnels on top of the metal creation. From what appeared to be a balcony just above her head there was a young boy in a long night gown waving his hand at her.

"Hey, are you Maria?" the boy called to her.

"Oie! Hey! Yes I am," she answered back, waving her hand at him.

"The front door is to the back," he said, scampering back into the large castle and into the warmth.

Maria blinked, and her gaze fell to the back of the moving castle. She sprinted over to there, and then found a door. As she reached for the knob, it opened, and Maria gave a sudden jolt as she gripped her shoulder bag. A woman with long silver hair and rich brown eyes looked back at the tall woman with interest and surprise. Maria grinned at the smaller woman.

"Hello, I'm Maria," the redhead said, saluting the woman robotically. "Lieutenant Maria Fitzgerald."

"Oh, y-yes," the other woman said, stepping aside for Maria. "Justin called. He was worried about you. Come in, come in."

"I figured he would," Maria said, stepping into the castle, surprised by the interior. It was rather warm inside and very tidy. Obviously a woman's touch added to the charm of the home. "I rather left abruptly. He said that you could help me."

The silver-haired woman closed the door, still staring at interest at Maria. A carrot-top boy rushed down the stairs, looking in awe at the redhead. "Wow! You're tall!" he said with a blooming grin.

"Markel," the other woman scolded.

"Hey, hey, it's quite alright," Maria said, stooping down low to ruffle the boy's hair playfully. She then glanced up, her eyes meeting a pair of dark blue ones. A man in a long nightgown looked at her with seething yet subdued ire. His hair was a bluish and his arms were crossed over his breast. Maria blinked, standing tall and proud. "I reckon you're Howl."

"That is correct," the man said, his eyes glancing over her. "You said you were a Lieutenant?"

"I am, sir," she quickly corrected.

"But you're a woman."

"Things are different where I hail from."

"And where _do_ you hail from?"

"And that's when _you_ come in," Maria said, moving away from the boy and took her seat into a wooden chair. She glanced over, noticing a rather ugly and extremely old woman stirred awake in a thick and warm bed, and she was staring with interest at the new-comer. In her lap was an old dog with long floppy ears and a drooping face. He was cute, in a weird sort of way. The expression on the old woman's face was particularly child-like. Maria winced a little. She had never seen a woman like that before (maybe it was because of modern medicine that prevented these sorts of things to happen to the extreme, and there was botox). But then she smiled. "Hello."

"Hello, dear," she said in a soothing, yet tired voice.

Maria smile continued. She then turned back to Howl with a stoic expression. "I need your help," she said. "It is difficult to explain, but—"

"You're under a curse."

Maria blinked, and she glanced around, searching for the owner of the voice. "Who was that?" she called.

"That was Calcifer," Markel answered, approaching her side, gripping her arm.

"Who?"

"Right here, lady."

Markel pointed to the fireplace, and that was when Maria noticed that the fire had a mouth and a pair of eyes. She jumped out of her seat, staring at the being with surprise.

"What the hell?" she called, forgetting that a minor was in her general area.

"Hey, hey, no need for language," the fire said. "I'm Calcifer, and that is Sophie." A little arm formed, pointing at the silver-haired woman. "It's a day by night curse, I can sense. What happens to you in the day?"

"I turn into a-a dragon," Maria answered, still surprised that she was speaking with a fire.

"A dragon, really?" the boy said, looking at her. "I bet you turn into a big and scary dragon!" He opened up his arms, and twirled around.

Maria looked at the boy, and then blinked as a smile formed on her face. "Yeah, a big scary fire-breathing dragon," she said with a pointed grin, her hands out in the form of claws.

Markel perked up with boyish delight. "I can't wait to see it!" he said.

Sophie approached the much taller woman. "So, a dragon," she said. "That's better than an old woman or a scarecrow."

Maria turned to Sophie, a bewildered expression on her face. "What?" she inquired.

"Oh, nothing," Sophie said, helping the redhead take a seat. "So, please, explain everything to us."

Maria sighed, and nodded her head. "It'll be long," she said, her hands folded onto her lap.

"That's alright."

Maria nodded, and then began to speak. She explained everything: how she came from a parallel world, how her and her troops separated from each other and she was currently searching for them, and how she met the Prince and so on and so forth. When she had finished, everyone was staring at her in awe and complete interest.

"So I just want to return home to my world and time," Maria said, placing a hand to her breast. "That's all I want; also to find my troops and return them to their families. That's why I need your help. Magic does not exist in my world—the closest thing we have to witches and wizards are _Harry Potter_, and that's a book series. A great book series, by the way. But anyway, how can I get this spell thing off me? I hate it!"

Howl had his hand to his chin as he looked at her. "Spells like these are either true love's kiss spells or self-actualizing spells," he explained. He turned to the older woman that sat warmly in her bed. "What do you think?"

"I believe you are correct," the older woman said. "She might need a kiss or finding something that she needs or has lost."

Maria stared at the two before her. "What do you mean by 'something that I have lost'?" she inquired, arching her eyebrow. "I don't understand."

"Well, there is something lost in your life," the older woman said. "Only you will know that."

"But I don't," Maria stated, placing her hand to her chest.

"Well, you turn into a dragon, which is a symbol of either wisdom, fear, hatred or greed. But you turn into a dragon during the day you say? Interesting. Normally these types of spells are pernanment until broken. Yours seem broken, like you are lost," the older woman said. "There is something that happened in your life to which you have lost. I can sense it. You will see in time."

Maria was obviously confused, and she stood there in her place. She then shook her head, and reached down, grabbing her heavy shoulder bag filled with her needed items. "Well, I need some sleep," the redhead whispered, still thinking about what the older woman said. She turned up to Sophie. "Thank you so much for what you are doing for me."

Sophie grinned sweetly. "Of course," she said, reaching out to grab the soldier by the arm. "Come, this way is the extra room."

Maria followed the silver-haired woman to the other room, Howl watching the two females go. His brows were furrowed as he was deep in thought. A soldier from another world was she? A government experiment? He was not entirely sure what to think. It was so farfetched, but she looked as if she was telling the truth about the matter (even though she looked very stoic as she spoke; her eyes spoke in levels).

"Howl? Are you alright?" the fire demon called, watching the man with confusion.

"Yeah, just thinking," Howl said, his chin resting between his thumb and pointer finger. "What do you think about her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think that she's telling the truth?"

"Oh, yeah, I think so. I can tell."

The older woman, who was still resting in her warm bed, nodded her head. "I think so, Howl," she stated, her head still bobbing. "Why would she lie? She seems a little cold, though, but all soldiers act like that. It's interesting that she's a soldier—a female soldier. How interesting."

Howl bobbed his head, and then he turned to the carrot-topped boy. "Markel, go get some sleep," he said, patting the boy on the shoulder. "Go on."

"Okay," the boy quickly agreed, rushing to the staircase, not forgetting to throw in a "goodnight."

Howl nodded, and then bid the demon fire and the older woman a well sleep before retreating to his and his wife's room.

* * *

><p>The guest room was a nice one. There was a bed under a window, a nightstand next to it with a lamp on it, a rounded rug, and a closet at her right. Maria blinked, and sighed as she removed her boots and her uniform, leaving her in a white tank top and her underwear. She moved to sit on the guestroom bed, and shifted to get more comfortable. She assumed that the mattress was filled with goose feathers, probably, judging on the history she had read up on (how many geese have been plucked naked for this?). Maria grabbed her bag, opened it quickly, and snatched her state-of-the-art communication device, and pressed a finger on a small black button under the speaker.<p>

"Lieutenant Fitzgerald calling Private Diaz," she said curtly.

Nothing.

She tried again. "Private, can you hear me?" Maria called, eyes narrowed. "Private Diaz? Private Wannabe? Anybody? Lohgan!"

Nothing still.

Her back slammed against the headboard of her bed, groaning to herself. The redhead vigorously rubbed her temples, her mind trying to rationalize. They were safe, yes, and that was all. They had lost connection, yes, that was all. That was all. But out of shear worry for her troop's well-being, she tried again:

"Privates! This is your Lieutenant calling. Pick up!" A pause. "Lohgan? Lucy? Anybody? Anyone . . .? Please pick up . . ."

Silence.

She sighed, hanging her head. She would have to try again later. Maria placed her walkie-talkie to the side, and looked at her bag. She wanted a smoke. Maria dug around in her shoulder bag, rummaging around like a squirrel would search for nuts. What was she looking for? Simple: cigarettes. She ached for a smoke. The Lieutenant felt a smooth cardboard box against her fingertips. The redhead took out the small box filled with her prized cigarettes, beamed like the sun, and flipped open the top. When she looked in, she noticed that there were only ten cigarettes left out of a pack of twenty-four.

"Damn it," Maria whined, closing the packet up, and threw it into her bag.

She ached for a smoke, but she had to save them for later. Pursing her lips, she searched her bag, trying to find her bottle of rum, only to find it empty. She threw it back into her bag, and grunted. "No hooch, no smoke—total bullshit." Maria then realized that she didn't take her medication, and she rummaged around, snatching up her bottle of pills. They rattled inside as she pulled them out, staring at them. "Well, then, here we go." She twisted open the bottle, took a single pill, swallowed it up, and placed the bottle back into her bag. That was then when Maria remembered that she had to talk to her therapist next month, and who knows hold long she would be here. She pulled out her pills once more, took every single one out, and counted them. She had enough medication for two and a half months.

Maria threw her pillow hatefully to the floor, teeming with anger. "Great, no medication either," she hissed. "Just my luck." She threw her bottle back into her bag, and put the bag onto the floor. "Why me? Why is it always me? Shit." Blinking, she reached for her bag, taking inventory of the items in her bag:

Two months' worth of medication, two hand-held guns, a month's supply of bullets, a switch-blade knife, a book on survival (originally for her young Privates as a welcoming gift), ten cigarettes, three matches, no rum or any kind of raw spirits, one iPad, one physical picture of her family, one pink origami dinosaur in a box (made by her young sister), her dress uniform (she wore her combat uniform), her dog tags, a single notepad, and pen.

Non-material items:

One curse, many flashbacks upon the War, many nightmares, one stupid hallucination that would not leave her be, bouts of prolonged insanity, a strong sexual attraction to the Prince, and no (still uncertain) God.

She hit the bed, staring hard at the ceiling above her. Soon the world started to become dark, and sleep and fatigue took her over.

* * *

><p><em>Maria trembled, clinging to her loaded gun as her eyes were wide and she trembled. Lohgan, her friend, held on to her to comfort her. He was also horrified. There were some shots fired, some grenades exploding—loud-pitched screams of pain and horror. Her and her Lieutenant's squad was in deep-ground tunnels, mirroring the style of World War II. Rain fell hard and cold on the bodies of the soldiers, washing away the dried blood and dirt from their bodies, but creating thick mud. Her mouth was open, panting, as she stared up at the heavens, wishing that she was home with her family rather than in the war field—rather than in the no-man's land as they called it. World War II all over again, but it was World War III. Some soldiers were crying, holding on to their heads as they rocked their bodies. Rats searching for someplace warm and dry scampered over the dead bodies and the live bodies—even over Maria and Lohgan.<em>

"_Don't worry, I'll protect you," Lohgan stated, holding on to her. "You're safe—you've got me."_

"_I want home, Lohgan," she panted, pushing a fat rat off her stomach._

"_Me too."_

_An explosion; both shuttered. Maria pushed herself closer to her friend, and he wrapped his arms around her body to comfort her again, soothing her gently—rubbing her shoulders and back tenderly; brotherly-like. More rats and bugs crawled over their bodies, and the killing kept going until the late night, and even then it did not stop._

* * *

><p>Maria jolted out of her bed, trembling, her hands gripping the bed sheets. She was panting like a thick-furred dog in the middle of summer, her mouth open, and sweat beaded off her forehead and cheeks. Just a memory. Just a memory. The Lieutenant groaned, hanging her head and gripped it tightly.<p>

"Go away, get out of my head," Maria snarled, her balled fists pounding on the sides of her head.

Her hands dropped to the bed, and she looked out of the window, noticing that the sun was peeking out from behind the mountain. Maria blinked, her mind reeling. She then groaned, pushing herself from her bed, and started to dress herself in her white tank top and baggy military pants. Her bare feet shuffled across the wooden floor, and she opened it up, looking around. No one was up just yet. And she darted to the staircase. The older woman was snoring loudly, and the talking fire was silent. She assumed that he was also asleep. Maria kept silent as she went to the front door, and opened it up, allowing herself to go outside in the crisp morning air. She shuttered as she closed the door. It was beautiful how the morning mist hung along the ground. That was when she started to remove her clothing, knowing that in a matter of moments she would become a large dragon, which she did. A _poof_, and there stood a dragon as the sun's rays touched her scales. With her large claws she folded her clothing, and placed them to the side neatly. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it. It was a trick she learned in the war—she had to go without food for a long time, so she just simply ignored what her body needed.

Maria knew that she had to find her troops. As Lieutenant it was her duty to protect her troops. Flying would be the best way to find them. She opened up her large wings, staring at them.

"Like a bird," she told herself. "Just like a bird."

The dragon jumped up, beating her wings frantically and without coordination, only to flop on the ground like an anchor. She growled, and pushed herself up.

"Can't give up," Maria robotically said. "Only the weak give in."

Maria leapt up, flapping her wings roughly and in tough determination. She would learn, even if it killed her. She would learn how to fly. She had to find her troops. Her wings thrust up and down, wind pushing down, creating a thick wind.

"_C'mon, Fitzgerald! You go! Don't you give up on me? Are you going to give up on me? The hell you are! Go, damn you! Prove to me that you've got the fight!"_

"I have the fight, sir," she whispered, her breath becoming labored.

"_You run faster than a cheetah, Fitzgerald! Damn girl, you go! You better not fail me, Fitzgerald. I've got high hopes for you!"_

"I will make you proud!" Maria snapped, noticing that she was moving higher and higher and the ground was moving further and further away. Her wings then gave out, and she fell with a loud thump to the thick grass.

She was panting heavily, her tongue hanging out of her mouth, her wings still aching. Maria opened her eyes, looking out into the distance. "Not that bad," the dragon muttered with a grin. She stood up on shaking legs, and she trembled. "Let's try again."

She repeated the trial a few more times, and then she rested on the grass, and dropped her wings, allowing them to rest.

"Just keep going," she whispered to herself. "Gotta keep trying."

"_Keep going! Don't stop! Don't be a whiny little bitch. Only the weak give up. Are you weak, Fitzgerald?"_

She shook her head. "No, sir," Maria whispered. "I'm not weak."

"_You better not be weak, damn you. I'll be seriously damn pissed if you give up on me. Don't be a piece of lazy shit."_

Maria nodded her head, and then curled up into a ball, breathing in a sigh of relief. She would try again soon.

"Can't give up," she muttered. "Never give up. No matter what. Only the weak give up . . ." The dragon felt her stomach groan, and she shivered. She could go hunting for something. The soldier-dragon stood up, and rushed off into the field. That was when she realized that this was not the same place as last night. Well, this castle did move. Perhaps it moved when everyone was sleeping. There was a great lake in front of her, and it glimmered in the morning light. She steadily approached the lake, and watched as it lapped around the gravel and dirt. There had to be fish in it; Maria jumped in.

* * *

><p>Sophie awoken and stretched out her limbs as a yawn passed her lips. The silver-haired woman smacked her lips, and looked out the window, rubbing the back of her neck tenderly. It was the break of morning. "I suppose Maria is already awake," she murmured to herself. Sophie yawned deeply, and then turned to Howl, who was sleep in his sleeping trance. She smiled gently at him, and nudged him. "Darling, time to wake up."<p>

He groaned. She nudged him again.

"Darling."

Howl's eyes slowly opened, and they turned up to look at her. "G'morning, love," he said, turning over onto his back, grabbing the sides of her face, and pulled her into a morning kiss.

Sophie smiled, turning to leave the bed and dress herself. Howl sat up, watching her with a small smile as she dressed. She turned to him, a thick blush forming on her cheeks before she turned away from him.

"You're so cute when you blush," he said, kicking off the sheets.

"Stop it," she hissed, her face heating up more.

Howl only chuckled, slowly removing himself from his bed. The two quickly dressed (Howl helped his wife with her corset) so that Sophie could prepare breakfast. The young silver-haired woman went to Markel's room, nudged him awake, and led him to the kitchen. The little boy yawned and rubbed at his eyes.

"How did you sleep, Markel?" Sophie inquired, rubbing gently at the boy's head.

Markel yawned again. "Good," he answered.

Calcifer stirred, yawned, and reached for a log to his right, placing it into the hearth with him. His eyes glanced around, looking for the newly added member of the moving castle. "Hey, where's the soldier," he called.

Markel rubbed at the top of his head, and then he paused. "Oh, Maria!" he called, glancing around the room. "Wait, its morning, so she's a dragon now." The little boy rushed to the front door, noticing a towel, before flinging open the door. He went outside, his feet on the cold, dew-covered grass. "Maria!" he shouted. He glanced over, noticing the dragon by the lake. "Maria!" He rushed to her.

That was when Sophie appeared, following after the boy. "Markel! Where are your shoes?" she yelled, hiking up her dress so she could follow the boy.

Howl peered out of the doorframe, and chuckled. "The boy's always got so much energy," he said with a twinge of a smile on his lips.

Markel seemingly materialized next to Maria, but she barely took notice of the boy. He was right behind the dragon, and called: "Maria!"

The dragon jumped like a startled horse, and whipped out her tail nearly missing the boy, and growled like a rabid wolf. Markel gasped, moving away from the dragon surprised and confused. Maria blinked, and took in a breath of air, calming her frayed nerves. "Oh, Markel, kid, I'm sorry," she said, nestling herself comfortably on the ground. "I get spooked easily."

Markel stood back up, and grinned, his little hands reaching for her elongated snout. "Wow, you're huge," he said with a beaming grin.

Maria grinned, nuzzling the boy gently with her snout. In her claws, Markel noticed, was a dead fish. He pulled back, looking over her dragon shape as Sophie approached, awed by her size. "Wow," she breathed.

Maria grinned toothily, and then she went back to her fish, taking it into her mouth and swallowed it whole. "Surprise?" Maria inquired, stifling back a burp, and snorted deeply.

"You're huge," Sophie whispered.

Markel rushed to her side, and tugged at her large wings. "Can you fly?" he inquired.

"Not yet, I'm learning still."

"I can teach you!"

"Heh, sounds good, kid."

Sophie tugged at the carrot-top boy's shirt, and placed her hands to his shoulders. "After breakfast we can teach Maria how to fly," she said. The silver-haired woman turned up to the long-necked creature. "Would you like anything else to eat?"

"Naw, I had five fish," Maria stated, her clawed hand at her mouth. "That's good for me." She stood up, reaching down with her mouth to grab the boy gently by the back of his nightgown.

Markel laughed, his hands at her snout. Sophie shook her head as the trio went back to the moving castle.

* * *

><p><strong>We all know Apple will still be around in 60 or so years. And what model is Maria's iPad? The 300th. :P<strong>


	9. Flying Lessons

Flying Lessons

IX

Maria breathed steadily as she started to jog. Her wings were tucked in to her sides and her tail was erect so it would not drag on the ground (she didn't want to slow her pace). Her jog was steady as she went from the now still moving castle to the lake. Back and forth she went, never stopping and never slowing. As she went back and forth, she spoke softly to herself, as if she was chanting something along the lines of "I don't know what I've been told . . ."

Markel watched her, his mouth filled with eggs and bread. "What isshe do'ng?" he said, most of what he said was mumbled because of the food.

"Markel, don't talk with your mouth full," Sophie scolded, staring at the little boy as she sat down in her seat.

The boy nodded quickly, and swallowed the food in his mouth. "Why is she doing that?" he asked, pointing out the window and at her.

Howl watched with little interest as he picked at his food with the prong of his fork. "Must be some soldier thing," he muttered disdainfully. He did not like her. Why? It was simple: he did not like soldiers. He despised them—he hated them all. They were just a bunch of murderers. That was what they were. _Murderers_.

Sophie blinked, staring at her husband. "Darling, I know you're not fond of her, but she does need our help," she said, pouring a fresh cup of tea into his.

"But we're helping a murderer," Howl grumbled under his breath, taking his cup, and drank greedily from it.

Sophie closed her eyes, and sighed through her nostrils. She said nothing as she stood up from her seat, realizing that Maria's breakfast was finished, she placed the food upon her plate. Since Maria was a dragon, she needed more food to eat. The solider had stayed at the castle for two days now, and she was practicing flying more and more. But she was still like a baby bird trying to fly from the nest—she was clueless about how to fly and was frantic to learn. They hadn't heard from Justin, probably because his wedding was only a week away (so the newspapers said) and he was preparing for it. Sophie took Maria's plate in tow, and approached the front door, opened it, and went outside. Howl watched as he twirled the fork between his fingers.

"Father," Markel called, uncertainty in his voice.

Howl's eyes moved to the youngest male in the family, and he smiled softly. "It's nothing, I'm fine," he said, taking a piece of bacon, and slowly chewed on it.

Calcifer snorted, a puff of fire coming from his mouth. "I know what it is," he said knowingly. "Since she's a soldier, you just don't like her. It's obvious you don't, just say it."

Howl hummed in his throat, running his fingernails down his skin. "You got it there," he grumbled, relaxing himself as he crossed his legs.

"But she's nice," Markel said, frowning at the navy-haired man. "Just because she's a soldier . . . She's still a nice person."

Howl blinked, staring hard at the little orange-haired young boy. "You don't understand, Markel," he said, running his finger down the length of his fork.

"What don't I understand?" the boy asked.

In the fireplace, Calcifer grumbled under his breath, and Grannie sat in her favorite chair, watching the scene unfold as she clutched her cup. Howl shook his head, and drank from his cup of tea.

"You will understand so when you are older," Howl replied curtly.

Markel frowned, brows furrowed (he hated it when adults would not explain things just because he was twelve years old), and ate his breakfast in silence.

* * *

><p>Sophie carefully approached Maria as she jumped up and down (she had ceased with her running) much like a deranged baby bird and wildly flapping her wings; flower pedals and blades of grass went flying. She barely got off the ground—perhaps three or four feet. The redhead was snapping at herself, screaming as she beat her vigorously to try to fly. Sophie clutched the plate, looking at the Lieutenant with a stern frown.<p>

"Maria," Sophie called as the dragon smashed into the grassy ground. "Are you okay?"

Maria snarled and snapped, cursing under her breath: "son of a bitch," and "shit," and "Goddamn." A flick of the ear, and a twitch of the tail-tip, and then Maria snorted like a bull. The Lieutenant turned around, flicking her tail and her wings tucked into themselves. She licked her lips, staring at the silver-haired woman with the plate of food, who was looking up and her puzzled and confused. Maria didn't look too excited for the food, but she forced a smile anyhow, and nodded to the human.

"Oh, hey, Sophie," Maria said, her face returning to be strained with anger, and she fell onto her haunches like a tired dog.

Sophie bit her lower lip, remembering the plate she held in her hands, and thrust it out as if she were offering a sacrificial lamb to a god. "Here, I brought you some breakfast," she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

Maria smiled tiredly as her massive claw-hand came across, gently taking the plate between two sharp fingernails, and tossed the tiny food into her hungry maw. "Thank you, Sophie," Maria said, giving the plate back to the young woman.

Sophie took the plate, and looked at the dragon. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"No," Maria curtly answered. "I'm not."

"Why?"

"It's been two days."

"Um . . . and?"

"Two days ago I promised myself that I would learn how to fly and find my troops," Maria clarified with a stagnate tone. She pounded her fist into the ground, and the dragon hissed like a snake. She sat up from her haunches, and outstretched her massive wingspan. "I have not been able to get very high and I still can't fly."

Sophie opened her mouth, but did not utter a sound, and nodded her head. Maria had promised herself that she would find her troops so she could make sure that they were safe. She must have felt horrible because she could not find them simply because she couldn't fly and bring them to safety. The silver-haired woman moved closer to Maria as she rotated her wings, and steadied her breathing.

"I think I can get Howl to help you," she said with a soft smile.

"Howl?" the dragon echoed, staring at the human. "How can your husband help me?"

"Well, let's say he used to be bird-like when he was cursed," Sophie said.

"He was cursed?"

"Yes, as was I and the Prince."

"Justin and you too?" Maria asked, her face clearly surprised.

"Yes, but that doesn't matter anymore," Sophie said, placing a hand to Maria's tense arm. "I can go to talk to him, and perhaps he can help you."

"Well, if he can, that would be great," Maria said as a grateful smile spread across her elongated face. "I need to learn so I can find my troops."

"Okay, I'll go bring out Howl," Sophie said with a bright smile. She turned, heading to the moving castle, determined to help the soldier woman. "Howl, darling," she called once she was inside the castle.

He glanced up from his meal, turning to look fully at her. "Yes, my love," Howl called, reaching out his arms to hug his wife as she came closer to him. "What do you need?"

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor," Sophie said, running her free hand through his thick hair.

"Anything for you," he said with a soft voice.

"Could you help Maria?"

Howl pulled back, staring at her with a stern face and a thick frown. "Why?" he asked in a deadpan voice.

"Please, Howl," Sophie begged, placing the plate to the side so she could hold her husband's face between both hands. "She really needs the help."

The deep blue-haired man sighed deeply, rolling his eyes as soon as he puffed out that said sigh. "With what?" he grumbled out the question.

Sophie gave a little smile as she continued: "She needs to learn how to fly so she can find her troops."

Howl then got an idea: help Maria fly, Maria will find troops; Maria finds troops, Maria leaves them all the hell alone. He grinned, leaning against his hand as his other hand rested gently on her hip.

"Okay, I can help her," he said, that sly grin stretching across his face.

Sophie glanced him over, and her arms crossed over her chest. "What are you thinking of," she said, arching a brow.

Markel chewed the last bit of food of his breakfast as he watched his adoptive parents with a curious face.

"Nothing, nothing," Howl said, gently pushing his wife aside as he stood up. "I'll go help our guest." He smoothed back his hair as he went to the front door, and left the warmth of the castle.

Markel sharply swallowed, tossing his fork onto his plate, and skittered away.

"Markel, what are you doing?" Sophie called, watching the carrot-haired boy rush to the door.

"I want to watch," Markel said, throwing open the door, and followed his adoptive father outside.

Sophie stood by the table, shaking her head as she let out a deep sigh. Grannie chuckled from her spot, still holding her cup. "Such a ball of energy," the old woman said with a grin.

"Yes, yes he is," Sophie chuckled as she collected the plates on the table.

* * *

><p>Howl approached Maria as she was looking down at the ground. Though he was not completely sure, but she seemed to be muttering softly to herself. The man's brows knitted together, observing her for a moment as he paused in place. Yes, he was certain—she was talking to herself. He could even hear some of the words she was saying: "how am I going to get home with this damn curse?" and: "where are my troops? I need to fine them" and strangely enough: "Dragon, don't even start." Howl blinked, looking her over with a confused expression.<p>

"Maria!" Markel called, rushing by Howl and to the dragon.

The redheaded dragon snapped her head up, grinning at the little boy. "Hey, Markel," she called, kneeling down enough to look at the little boy more efficiently. "How's my little man this morning?"

"Good!" he called, wrapping his arms around her snout, and clung to her. "Pick me up!"

And Maria did just that, lifting the little boy from the ground about three or so feet as he was laughing. Howl reacted, grabbing the boy by the waist, pulling him from his grasp on the dragon.

"Okay, that's enough," Howl said, placing the boy onto the grassy ground. "Sophie said you needed help."

Maria blinked, staring at the slender man with a placid face. "Well, I needed to learn how to fly," she said, rearing her head as she stretched out her large wings. "As you know, I have been trying but unable to succeed. Sophie said that you could help me, though I doubt that you can. Do you turn into a bird or something?"

Howl chuckled dryly. "Well, let's just say I was under a curse," he said, placing his hands behind his back as he walked along.

"Yes, Sophie told me," Maria said, her tail flicked from side to side. "Boy, birds of a feather flock together, eh?"

Howl arched his brow, staring at the dragon. Maria grinned toothily at the wizard as her tail swished from side to side like a cat. She waved her clawed-hand in the air, and the hand then scratched the back of her neck.

"Nevermind. Well, shall we, Wizard Howl?" Maria said, licking her outer lips in untamed glee. "Teach me how to fly like a bird."

Howl turned, erecting his form to look right at her. "Alright," he said in an alert tone. "Let us begin."

Maria, by constant reinforcement, straightened her form and righted her shoulders, becoming stiff as a board. "Sir, yes, sir," she called robotically.

Markel and Howl exchanged looks before turning to stare at the redheaded Lieutenant, who was now smiling sheepishly. "Sorry," she laughed softly. "Force of habit. Being in the military and all . . ."

"Right," Howl drawled, his eyes glancing her over. He cleared his throat. "Now, to begin. How far can you get off the ground?"

"Um, maybe four or five feet," Maria said, stretching out her wings to look at the flesh connecting to the bones of each "finger" of her bat-wing. "I'm pretty heavy as a dragon, and I never hand wings before, so you can understand."

"Yes," Howl said. "Flying is simple, the minute you learn, that is." The wizard approached her right wing, touching the muscle, trying to figure how taunt it was. "Your wings seem strong. I guess that you have been working them."

"For the last three days for five hours with twenty minute breaks," Maria answered with straight and perfect accuracy. "I am determined to learn. I am worried for my soldiers."

"I know you are," Howl said. "And I'm going to get you there." He released his wing, and moved to her front. "First, stand up tall and proud."

And she did just that. Her legs were straight and perfectly angled. Her tail was still against the ground as she reared her mighty head upward, and it caused her to loom over the two human males below. Her shadow cast over them, practically blocking out the sun. Markel stood in awe as he craned his head to look up at her.

"Wow," he breathed, and stumbled back, staring still.

"Now, spread your wings," Howl said.

Maria did just that without a single word of protest or whatnot.

"Now flap them," Howl said. "Flap them as strongly as you can."

Gushes of wind thrust over them as she beat her powerful wings. She jumped up, beating her wings vigorously as she tried to lift herself from the ground.

"Keep going," Howl called, watching the large, heavily-scarred dragon rise slowly in the air. "Flap your wings harder and harder. Do not stop."

"_Don't stop, Fitzgerald! Do you want to give up on America?_"

"Sir, yes, sir," Maria breathed in a raspy voice.

She rose higher and higher into the air, thrusting her wings up and down harshly as grass blades kicked up, and they fluttered along the wind. The wizard watched her, licking his dry lips as the dragon started to moved left to right.

"Yes, yes, good, good," Howl said, watching as her wings began to become more confident with each beat.

"Go, Maria!" Markel called, thrusting his little fist into the air.

Maria's mouth became dry as she felt the last of her saliva roll around her tongue and teeth. Her wings then gave up, and she collapsed to the ground, laughing in a raspy tone. Markel approached her, leaning against her neck as she panted heavily.

"You did good!" Markel said with a grin.

"Yeaaaah," Maria panted, a tried smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Not bad. I'm getting better. Whoo!"

A smile found its way on Howl's face as he looked at the struggling dragon as she tried to regain her breath. "Need a drink of water," Howl called.

"That would be nice," Maria said, her tongue licked her teeth as it flopped around in her dry mouth. She stood up, approaching the lake, and started to lap up the lake water like a thirsty dog.

Markel laughed, clutching his stomach as he watched her. "Maria, you look funny," the carrot-top boy said with a large grin on his face.

Maria lifted her head, a tongue coming from her mouth to lick up the droplets of water that were situated on her fleshy-coloured scales. "I do," she called, a smile stretching across her mouth.

"You look like a cat!"

Maria looked at the little boy, still smiling. She uttered a single playful sound: "Meow."

Markel laughed, leaning against Maria's broad shoulder. Howl placed his hands to his waist-high hips, staring at the interactions between the strange woman-dragon and his adopted son. She seemed alright, for a soldier. But she was a soldier—a killer. She was just a murderer. It was strange to refer to a woman as a murderer, but she was a soldier, and that was what soldiers did; kill people. And because of that, he did not want Markel around her too much.

"Okay, you two, that's enough," Howl said with a smooth tone.

Maria turned back to Howl, and nodded. "Right," she said, standing up, her tail swishing from side to side. "Let's do it."

* * *

><p>It had been two hours, and Sophie would glance outside from time to time. And each time she glanced outside, she noticed how high Maria was flying. She was getting better and more confident with each moment. The silver-haired woman smiled, drying her hands on the towel.<p>

"She's getting better," Sophie said. "Her flying is amazing."

"How good is she getting?" Calcifer called from his place.

"Like a bird," the silver-haired woman said.

"Alright then," the demon fire said, grabbing a log and placed it into his fireplace. "I'm glad that she's learning how to fly. I can sense that Howl doesn't seem to like her."

"Why do you think that?"

"Howl's always hated soldiers. He always thought they were nothing but dirty murderers."

Sophie blinked, then tore her gaze away from the talking fire, and watched as Maria batted her wings vigorously to fly higher and higher.

"Well, she doesn't seem like a murderer," Sophie said. "But maybe she's never seen war. She is a woman—maybe she's a nurse."

"Ehhh, I'm not so sure," Calcifer stated, running his little hands up and down the length of the log he had. "Just because she's a woman doesn't mean anything. She said that she came from the future, so maybe things are different there."

Sophie looked at the flame, a little frown on her face. "Well, she's a kind person from what I saw," she said, placing the towel to the side. "Well, let's give her a chance. Okay? It doesn't hurt."

"Try discussing that with Howl, okay?"

Sophie was silent, and she turned to look out the window as Maria landed back onto the ground. Was she just a cold-blooded murderer? She seemed so nice. The silver-haired woman pushed back her hair, and licked her dry lips. It was wrong to accuse her. She barely knew her—it was wrong to say something bad about her. She would have to talk to her husband.

* * *

><p>"Now," Howl began, bending down to pick up a rock, "you've gotten stronger." He rubbed the stone with his other hand, and pulled it back. "Let's test it."<p>

"Yes, Sir," Maria said curtly, her wings shifting.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a slender stick of chalk that he always had in his pocket, and etched onto it. Howl then patted the hard surface as the rounded rock began to glow and float. Maria and Markel were in obvious awe as they watched.

"Let's see how strong you've gotten."

Howl thrust his hand out, and the rock flew by, passing Maria's head as it darted off. Maria turned back to Howl, a stiff look on her face as her ear twitched. Howl arched his brow, staring at the dragon.

"Fetch," he said with an amused smirk on his face.

With the speed of a frantic cat, Maria moved, casting up pebbles and slabs of dirt as she ran. She wildly flapped her wings as she gained speed. Slowly but surely, she was lifting from the ground and soon she was off; flying like a new bird taking flight for the first time. Her body jutted with each movement of her wings, but she was flying. Howl thrust his hand to the right, and the rock followed his movement. Markel cried in joy as he jumped up and down.

"Maria!" he called as he cupped his hands. "You're flying!"

Realizing this, she glanced around, seeing how far she was off the ground. She laughed, rearing back her head as she glided across. "Sweet mother of God, I _am_ flying!" she yelled happily as she ducked downward, following the rock. She felt like she was in a jet all over again—that weightlessness and freeness that she longed for and loved just as much as the air she breathed. Maria lifted her head up, ceased the batting of her wings, and glided across the currents of the wind—closing her eyes to feel the wind upon her face and rustle her hair. Her cockiness getting the best of her, she decided to do a few tricks. Smirking, she batted her wings, and tired to make a circle, similar to what she used to do in her jet, but failed mid-circle and fluttered her wings to get her form again. "Whoa," she breathed, "steady." Her wings straightened out, and she sighed in relief.

The rock jittered, and she followed it like a dog would chase a stick. Howl zipped the rock around in the heavens, hoping that she was honing her skills as a flyer, and it seemed to be working.

"Look at me, Markel!" Maria called. "I'm flying!"

"Go, Maria!" Markel called, clapping his hands.

Howl smirked. His plan seemed to be working. If she kept this up, Maria would fly to find her troops and leave him and his little family all the hell alone. Oh, how he loved helping people. Maria, above, zipped about like a hawk giving chase to a small, helpless bird. Her form was becoming more elegant with each passing moment. Just then, Maria (after five minutes or so) she snatched the rock, and sailed downward.

"Got it," Maria said breathlessly, holding out the rock to him.

Howl took the rock, and smiled. "I think you got it," he said, tossing the rock aside. "You're flying quite well now. Just practice a little more and you'll do just fine."

Markel lunged at Maria, hugging her strong arm tightly. "You did it, Maria!" he said, grinning.

The dragon Lieutenant laughed, lifting up the boy as she twirled him around. "I know!" she laughed, her tail flicking from side to side. "I flew! I was like a bird! You saw me, right? Wasn't I just the coolest thing?"

Howl cleared his throat, and reached for his adoptive son. "Okay, that's enough," he said, eyeing the dragon as he pulled back the now pouting Markel.

Maria blinked, sitting down on her haunches, staring at the wizard before smiling sweetly. "I'm not going to hurt him, so don't worry," she said assuming that it was his worry.

Howl hummed in his throat, and gave her a stern, apprehensive look. Maria blinked, staring at him and drinking in his body language. He was tense, and he looked so untrusting. She was getting the feeling that he was not too terribly fond of her. Nevertheless, she smiled like the actress she was.

"Well, thank you for helping me out."

"Of course. Are you going to search for your troops?"

Bingo.

"Of course."

"When?"

He wanted her gone.

"Whenever," Maria answered vaguely, her tail twitching from side to side.

Howl frowned and noticed the sparkle in her eyes. She was onto him. But he smiled nonetheless, staring at her like she were a bug that needed to be killed quickly. "Whenever you need, miss," he said, putting Markel onto the ground.

"Why thank you, Wizard Howl."

There was a tense silence as both grown-ups stared each other down with sharp eyes. Markel rushed to her, completely unaware of the tension that hung thick in tha air, and he nudged her strong arm. "Do you want to play with me and Heen?" he asked jubilantly and so innocently.

Maria snapped away from her piercing stare and glanced down to the boy with an inquisitive look. "Heen?" she asked, leaning down to have better eye-contact with him.

"The dog."

"Oh," Maria said with a grin. "I _love_ dogs. Bring him out; I would love to play with him!"

The little boy let out a happy gasp, and he clapped his hands together. "I'll go get him!" he called, rolling back on his heels.

Markel rushed by the adults, and went to the moving house to fetch his furry friend. A moment of silence hung in the atmosphere. Maria then turned to Howl, her face completely whipped of all emotion. He looked back to her, a sharp frown upon his thin lips as he stared at her with those dark eyes of his. A Cheshire Cat grin stretched across her elongated mouth, and he grinned right back at her.

Let the games begin.


	10. Lost

**Happy holidays!**

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><p>Lost<p>

X

It was night; a cold night. A night that marked that fall was soon coming. The mountain peaks were the coldest at this time, and the plants started to die from frostbite. In the distance sat a group crowded around a warm fire that moved like a heart would beat. Tree leaves fluttered in the light night breeze rolled by, making the humans shutter.

"Fitz?"

No response.

"Fitz?"

Nothing.

"Shit."

There was a sharp sound of a match striking a rough exterior and the hiss of the tiny flame. A man that was trying to call upon his friend sighed, and dropped his hands to his sides. "Great," he said, turning off the hand-held device, and approached the small camp him and the rest of the troops had made. A slender Asian female with brownish hair and eyes glanced up from polishing her automatic gun, staring at the looming man with the sorrow-filled face.

"Anything from Ma'am, Sir?" she asked, her hand drooping.

"Nothing," he replied, slouching in front of the fire. "I'm worried for her."

The lone female troop hung her head as her hopes started to diminish. Was her idol safe? She prayed to God that she was. Reaching into her pocket, she clutched her cross, wishing that the redheaded woman was safe somewhere. The thought of her prized idol being hurt or dead made the younger woman want to vomit. She had so much to learn from Maria, and that opportunity being taken away from her was too much to bear. A slender dark-skinned man next to her stared hard at her, and knew how fearful she was. Smiling, he placed his hand upon her shoulder in a comforting way.

"D-don't worry, I b-b-b-bet Lieutenant Fitzgerald is j-just fine," another man said, his dark hair falling in front of his green eyes. "She's to-to-tough . . ."

A third man with a lean build sat away from the group, sitting on a rock, smoking a cigarette, and gazed off into the distance. Upon his slender face was a soul patch and sideburns trailed down his profile. His skin was a mild mocha, and his eyes were a earth-brown. "Yeah, I bet she is just fine, Stutters," he said, blowing out a puff of smoke. "But, she's only second best, compared to me."

The dark-haired man winced at the man's pet name for him: "Stutters." When he was young, he had to deal with bullies making fun of his speech patterns (oh how he hated _alalia syllabaris_!), and he loathed how the man mocked him as much as he did. He swallowed sharply, his neck becoming tense, and turned his head away, a scowl upon his features.

"Don't call him that, Sir," the Asian female said, a biting tone in her voice. "He hates being called that."

The other man sheepishly smiled at the female, who grinned back. The man on the rock did not respond as he snorted. The other man crossed his arms over his bulky chest, staring hard at the man on the rock.

"Major, you may be my superior, but you can't talk down to my soldier like that," the large man covered with slender scars said with a distinct growl in his voice. His glass eye gleamed in the light of the fire. "And stop referring to Private Diaz as 'Stutters.' He's a fine soldier, so quit your mockery. He doesn't like it, _Sir_."

"Oh, Lohgan, don't get your panties in a bunch," the Major said with a little smirk as he gently tapped his cigarette; little ashes fell from it and onto the ground. He took in another puff of his cigarette, and blew out a thick grey smoke puff. "But you're right, she's a tough chick; she can handle her own. She was taught that, wasn't she? Yes, she was. But not as tough as _me_. After all, I graduated _top_ of our class, and she was a mere _second_. And you were third! Ha!" He laughed uproarously, placing a hand to his crunching stomach.

"You're pushing me," Lohgan grumbled, throwing a stick at the fire (he really wanted to chuck it at the Major).

"I like Ma'am," the Asian said with a smile. "I don't get why you don't like her, Major Mosby."

"Oh, she doesn't bother me, I bother her," Major Dwight Mosby replied, taking another puff on his cigarette. "I guess it's because she can't handle all of the awesomeness that radiates from me. She can't handle the swag that permeates from my very being." He smirked, shrugging his shoulders, and bobbed his head.

Lohgan snorted, rubbing his hands by the fire, trying to keep warm. Beside him was Private Gandira Diaz. The Indian-Hispanic man with the strong slender face and dark eyes sneezed, and rubbed his hands along his slender frame to keep his palms warm. He licked his lips as he brought a flask to his mouth, filling his mouth with warm rum that heated his insides. "I'm sssssure s-s-s-he's fine," he said, swallowing thickly as he screwed the opening of the flash shut. Diaz paused, his mind reeling. "S-s-shit! I'm worried!" He pounded his heel into the ground, hissing. "It's been a-a-a wwwweek a-and three days!"

"Me too," Lohgan said, staring hard at the flames that licked at the atmosphere and the cool night air.

The Asian woman glanced around, rubbing her knucles against her palm, staring up at the dark sky above and the bright stars—her name was Private Lucy Wannabe. She was a limber woman with short hair and a gentle face of an angel (or that's what Diaz thought). "This world is crazy," she said. "There's actual magic in this world. It's so strange."

"L-l-like _Harry Potter_," Diaz said, grinning, handing the flask to the woman next to him.

She laughed, taking the flash into her hand, and opened it up, realizing that Diaz had closed it by habit. "Even though that's an old book series, I still love it," Wannabe said, taking a drink from the metal container.

"I hate that series," Mosby grumbled, taking a puff on his cigarette.

The three soldiers exchanged glances, before sighing practically in unison. Mosby turned on his rock, staring down at the small group of troops. "Hey, do you think they got prostitutes around these parts?" he called, a devious smile upom his lips.

"Ever since the dawn of time, there has been prostitutes," Loghan said, licking his lips as he yawned. "So I believe there's a whore house or two around these parts."

"Oh, good," Mosby said with a smirk. "If we get to the next town, I'm going to find one. I haven't gotten laid in a while."

Wannabe opened her mouth, holding her finger to it, pretending that she was gagging. Diaz chuckled, bringing the flask to his lips once more to drink. Lohgan shook his head, and then stretched out his strong arms, yawning deeply again.

"Well, troops, time to get some sleep," Lohgan said, reaching up to scratch his short blonde hair. "Let's pitch a tent and sleep."

"R-right, Sir," Diaz said, closing his flask and slipped it into his combat uniform's breast pocket before standing.

"Yes, Sir," Wannabe replied, placing her gun to the side, and joined the two men. "Tomorrow, for sure, we'll find Ma'am! I can feel it in my bones!"

Lohgan chuckled, grinning widely as he nodded his head curtly. He loved her good on-look with life; such a nice girl she was. Mosby arched a brow, watching as the trio as they got the necessary gear to pitch that said tent. "Hey, good idea," he said, lifting up his cigarette and grinned.

Lohgan glanced up, his lips pressed tightly together. "Aren't you going to help, Sir?" he called, arching a thick brow.

"Naw, it looks like ya'll got it," Mosby replied, grinning shamelessly as he huffed on his smoke.

Lohgan arched a brow, and sighed deeply. "Fine, Sir," he grumbled, grabbing a pole and smashed it into the ground, twisted it a little, and secured it in the ground. "Be a lazy ass," he muttered under his breath.

Mosby had a look between pride and guilt upon his face as he puffed on his cigarette and he looked to the sky, staring at the sparkling stars above. The other three troops, in the background, had started building up the large tent that would house them for the night. The clanking of metal and the ruffle of sheeted plastic echoed within the wind, and it filled Mosby's ears. He did not want to admit it, but he was worried for Maria. His little rival-ship was all that he had with her, and the thought of not being able to challenge her to something (and win) made his heart sink oddly enough. Maybe there was something else he did not acknowledge that had to do with Maria. He shook his head, and snorted out smoke.

"Sir."

Mosby turned, staring at the tall, bulky man by his side. "Yeah, Cyclops?" he said, taking another inhale of smoke.

Lohgan twitched, loathing the nickname, but took the bullet. "Sir, the tent is ready," he announced. "Would you like to sleep as well?"

"Um, no, I'm going to finish my smoke," Mosby said, a trail of smoke coming from his lips. "Get some sleep, now, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Sir," Lohgan said, nodding his head, saluted, and climbed into the tent to join the two Privates within it.

Mosby looked at the tent, seeing the light in it as it silhouetted their frames along the skin of that said tent. It soon was turned off, and there was a rustling sound of fabric. The Major continued to stare, and then turned back to the background. He was silent for a moment, brought his cigarette to his lips, and blew out blackened smoke.

* * *

><p>Justin gently ran his gloved fingers down the warm tea cup, which held a full cup of his drink. The liquid in the said up trembled gingerly inside, making little ripples that bounced from each rounded side of the cup. His mind was drifting . . . Thinking. Afloat in a sea of childish and joyful dreams of another life outside of his own life. He was curious of so many things: had had not a inkling of a world other than the palace and of royalty. He wanted to dream, even though his father had told him (many times) that dreaming was childish and immature. Justin could not help it; he loved to dream.<p>

"Darling?"

The blonde glanced up, staring at his curious mother. "Yes, Mother?" he asked, turning back to the surface of reality and clutched his drink.

"Are you alright?" she inquired, reaching across to rest her hand on her son's arm.

"I know what he is thinking of," Annabeth said, her fork cutting into her slice of cake in a womanish fashion. "You're thinking of that wretched beast."

The blonde narrowed his bright blue eyes at her until they became flecks of icy blue. "Stop calling her that," Justin said, staring hard at his fiancée. "She is not a beast—she is cursed. It is not her fault that she's cursed."

"But she could have acted a little more proper when hunting," Annabeth said, taking a minute bite of her dessert. "And act more like a gentlewoman than that of a boyish man. Her clothing and hair! I thought I was staring at a gender-confused man-woman."

Justin tapped his finger on the oak table, trying to minimize his anger for the woman before him. He turned back to his tea, and drank from it, ignoring the fact that he was scolding his tongue. Dorian chuckled, leaning back into his chair, puffing on a thick cigar, which was held promptly between two of his fingers.

"I know, tell me about it," Dorian stated, a thick grin on his features. "I could have sworn she was a man at first."

"Stop it," Justin said firmly, yet coldly.

Dorian waved his hand, and snorted. "Fine, fine," he said. "I don't know why you protect her as much as you do."

The blonde man twitched, and turned back to his drink, suddenly finding it very, _very _interesting. He said absolutely nothing. The brunette with freckles pushed back his hair, staring hard at his brother. He crossed his legs, resting a palm on a knee; making himself big in some sort of ample fashion.

"No, tell me, why do protect her as much as you do," Dorian said, grinning mischievously.

"Yes, tell us, dear," Annabeth said, looking at her fiancée with a smirk.

"Because she is a person—she is a person with feelings and dreams that needs to be treated like a decent human being," Justin said quickly, drinking from his cup until nothing was left. "Is that a good enough reason for you?"

"Yeah, that's a good reason," Dorian said, bringing a cigar to his lips and breathed out a thin veil of smoke. "But I still don't think that's the only reason."

Annabeth silently looked at Dorian, and then back to her fiancée. She remained silent, and she started to eat her cake again. She decided to let it go, just for now. He seemed overly-fond of her (more than she would have liked, but he was a man, and a man could have numerous amounts of women in his lifetime); however, she could do nothing, no matter how she hated the woman. She would have prefered him courting another woman other than this Maria (Maria this, Maria that; "don't insult Maria!"). Justin turned to the window, seeing the darkness of night.

"So, how is the dress fitting, Annabeth?" Christine said, feeling slightly awkward about not being talked to.

"Oh, yes," Annabeth said with a grin. "The dress is beautiful, and so is the veil. Tomorrow, we're going to try it on and fix it a little. It is going to be a fabulous wedding, won't it, Justin?"

"Yes," he said, and then added, "I suppose." Justin looked at his empty tea cup, sighing.

"And you, Justin?" Christine inquired, staring at her brother-in-law. "Are you going to have a tuxedo fitted for you?"

"Tomorrow," he answered, watching as a servant materialized by his side, pouring fresh tea into his cup. "Yes, tomorrow."

"Ah, that's good," Christine said, smiling softly. Her left hand went to her lap, and her right hand picked up her fork, cutting into her cake.

In the background, there were light sounds of servants talking to each other, asking questions and having light chatter before they were making their rounds. Justin blinked slowly, his mind reeling with things—all sorts of things.

"My dear, what bothers you?" Annabeth called, bringing him out of his mind. "Are you still thinking of that Maria?"

"Of course, I wonder if she made it to my friends, that's all," Justin said. "And I haven't been able to call them, so I'm a little worried."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, and took another bite of her cake. "I don't believe anything happened to her," she said after swallowing her piece of cake in her mouth. "She looks so much like a man that no one would bother her."

Dorian chuckled, his hand pressed to his mouth to silence himself. Christine looked to her husband, her face a mixed between curiousness and shamefulness. The Queen frowned sternly, staring at her son with disappointment.

"Son, don't laugh. And Annabeth, don't start," Sarah said with quite sternness. "I don't know why you two mock her as much as you two do. She's a nice person."

Justin smiled, feeling a sense of warmth in his chest.

"But the way she looks and dresses is so inappropriate," Annabeth said as she tried to defend her actions.

"Still, she's from another country," she said. "And wherever that is, that is how they act there and there is nothing we can do about it. Yes, I agree that it is strange the way she looks and dresses, but we cannot do anything about it."

Dorian cleared his throat as Annabeth turned back to her cake shamefully. Justin had a broad smirk upon his mouth as he laughed from within his head. He then turned to his dear mother, still grinning.

"Mother, may I ask you something," he said, his eyes closing as he drank from his cup.

"Yes, of course, son," Sarah said, looking to her eldest son.

"May I bring my friends over to the palace," Justin stated, opening his eyes to look at his fair mother. "I haven't brought them over for a dinner for a while, and I wish to see them."

"I don't see why not," the Queen said, a gentle look on her face.

Annabeth glanced up, staring at the blonde. "Will you invite the redhead," she asked, arching a thin brow.

"Well, of course. I don't see why not."

Annabeth's cheeks became red, and her eyes narrowed. "Must you bring her," she grumbled, her fingernail tapping against the cold metal of her fork.

"Yes."

She obviously did not like that answer, and her face showed it. Justin smiled innocently, and slightly cocked his head to the side. "What's wrong?" he asked, still smiling. "Don't like the answer I gave you, _darling_?"

Annabeth twitched, staring at her fiancée with a stern frown and slit eyes. Justin continued to smile sweetly at her, never faulting under Annabeth's hard, malicious stare. He drank from his tea hungrily, still smiling shamelessly.

"Well, I will go over to invite them," he said. "Perhaps tomorrow I can go see them. Mother?"

"Of course," she said, ignoring the death stare from Annabeth. "I don't see why not."

Justin grinned even more widely than ever.


	11. Madness is Sane

**It's been a while since I've updated. Sorry.**

**This chapter may not make much sense. Sorry.**

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><p>Madness is Sane<p>

XI

_Maria sat in the middle of the floor, her face stoic and her eyes dead. Around her, there was nothing. There was no sense of "walls" or a "ceiling" where she was. As far as the eye could see, there was only white. Endless white—like someone had unrolled a long, white sheet that was continuous. The redhead was quite as she nibbled on her lower lip. Blinking, she reached downward, touching the floor. Under her, the floor rippled like water as it engulfed her, and she was pulled under. She was free-falling until she landed on her feet in the place she hated to be most. She reared her head, glancing around. There—or here—was a battle ground. The bodies of the enemy and the ally lay dead or dying in the wake of morning. There was moaning and groaning of sheer pain as the scent of hot metal and rotting flesh. She shivered, hanging her head, rubbing her hands against her arms._

"_Hmmm, the scent of hot, melted metal and rotting bodies. What a familiar smell—brings back memories, doesn't it?"_

_Maria's eyes narrowed, looking up at the creature she hated the most (but had to love as well). "Well, well, well, there be the beast that caused many people to wallow in sorrow and pain," she hissed, turning away from the creature. "What do you want?" _

_The beast was a dragon—the creature was very similar to what she looked like as a dragon. Banned markings lined the front legs and the snout of the beast, scars etched across the skin like a canvas of death, the flesh on the wings were torn, ripped, and pierced with rings. Chains hung from the neck and wrists of the beast, making loud clanking sounds as it walked. A heart-shaped hole sat in the breast of the dragon with the skin clung-tightly to the beast's ribcage, showing every ripple and bone in its body. The left horn was completely snapped off, and red hair was wild and unkempt._

"_Blood-stained grounds below, weapons unsheathed and loaded—the familiar cries of pain and torment. The Devil's playground is war."_

"_Seriously, knock it off," Maria snapped. "What do you want?"_

"_Want to talk to you," the creature answered._

_Maria sharply turned, trying to trudge away from the beast. "Just leave me alone, Dragon, I'm not in the mood to see you," she called, the world around her becoming white in a blink._

"_Are you ever in the mood for me?" Dragon mockingly replied._

_Maria peered back at her, her face flushed red, and her eyes narrowed. "Leave me alone," she snapped, pounding her foot on the "floor" and an endless stretch of a flower field appeared._

"_And who would I bother if I had to leave you alone?"_

_Maria twitched, and then moved, trying to rid herself of the dragon-shaped annoyance. The redhead flopped on the cushioned grass-covered ground. She was staring up at the perfect cloudless blue sky. Dragon's head peeped in front of Maria's vision._

"_Seriously, I _need_ to talk to you," she said curtly. "It's important."_

"_Whatever _you_ have to say is not all _that_ important," Maria said threateningly._

"_Ow, Maria, that hurt my feelings. That wasn't very nice."_

"_Go away."_

"_Where? We're in the middle of your mind. We can go anywhere, but I won't go anywhere. It's not like I could even if I want to."_

_Maria turned to her side, hugging her shoulders tightly. "Why do you like to torment me as much as you do?" she whispered._

"_I don't torment you, I just sit here in your mind, doing nothing but only wanting to talk to you," Dragon responded._

"_Yes you do," Maria yelped, quickly standing up. "You torment me. You constantly remind me of what happened through horrible dreams every night."_

"_Does that qualify as torment?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Oh, then I _must_ be tormenting you."_

_Maria kicked the ground, killing a set of flowers. "Seriously, go away," she screamed, throwing her hands up._

"_I just want to talk to you."_

_Maria crossed her arms over her chest firmly, glaring harshly at the dragon before her. "Okay, then talk," she said, arching a brow, a scowl forming on her lips._

_Dragon smiled, shifting her wings to get more comfortable as she sat on her hindquarters. "Perfect," she said. "Now, you and I need to get along."_

"_Why? _Why_ should _I_ get along with you better?"_

"_Because hating me is not healthy," Dragon responded, placing a claw to her chest. "You shouldn't hate me."_

"_I shouldn't?" Maria screamed, her eyes becoming wild. "_I hate you!_"_

"_Why do you hate me so? We are two of the same halves to the same whole. I cannot live without you, and you cannot live without me."_

"_I don't need you to live," Maria snapped, glaring hard._

"_Oh, yes you do," the dragon replied. "Even the most sane of people have moments of insanity; even the good are bad at times. Light proceeds darkness, and darkness proceeds light. You cannot rid of me, you can only kibosh me. Hate to tell you the truth . . . But I'm sticking around forever."_

"_I want you gone, I want you out of my life and head!" Maria whimpered, her hands clutching her short hair. "You ruined my life for almost four years! And you are still here ruining my life."_

"_How? I fail to see how."_

"_I told you, Dragon!"_

"_Those dreams? Honey, I show you those so you won't forget the past," Dragon answered, cocking her head to the side._

"_Maybe I want to forget!"_

"_You can't forget," Dragon said sharply. "Memories should not be forgotten. You must hold on to them."_

"_Even if I go mad again?" Maria whimpered, feeling her eyes sting._

"_Madness is an illness that can't go away fully."_

"_I don't want to go back," Maria whispered, hugging her body tightly._

"_I know you don't," Dragon said in a slight comforting tone as she moved her claw outward in a dismissive motion. Dragon was a strange creature; she could be kind and loving one moment and sadistic and loveless the next—a dual personality so it seemed; one of a demented person and the other of a gentle humanitarian. Perhaps that is what happens when one is mad. "So to help you, you must remember. To judge your future you must remember your past. Your past will help with your future. You cannot simply forget, for forgetting is fruitless."_

"_Why do you speak in riddles?"_

"_You graduated from high school at the age of sixteen—you know what I speak of. Don't play stupid. You just can't see yet. You must open your cloud-filled eyes and look out."_

"_What clouds my vision, Dragon," Maria asked, her blue eyes becoming watery icy crystals._

"_That is for you to find out."_

"_Why can't you just tell me?" Maria hissed, her upper lip curling up into a scowl._

"_Telling you will not help you in your cause," Dragon said curtly, a scowl forming on her elongated face. "Even though I may—actually, I do know—but I cannot just tell you. That will not help you at all. Only you can help yourself."_

"_So you've told me," Maria said, running her tongue along her teeth. "I still hate you, just so you know."_

"_Because I am your guilt and insanity and that you created me in the asylum?"_

_Maria sat back down on the grassy knoll, reaching for a flower, and started to pluck the pedals from the centre. "I hated that place," she whispered, watching the periwinkle pedals flow slowly to the grass below. "I hate it when you bring that up. Why do you?"_

"_Because I like to watch you squirm."_

_Maria narrowed her eyes, looking back at Dragon with a stare of distain. Dragon sighed, shrugging her shoulders._

"_What? I do like to watch you squirm. What's wrong with that? You like to fight with Mosby; I like to mess with you."_

"_And you wonder why I hate you."_

_Dragon chuckled darkly, her eyes half-lidded as she stared at Maria. "Despite that, I still want you to be healthy again, just like you used to all those years ago," she said, a long forked tongue slipped out, licking her lips._

"_Sure you do," Maria said, picking the last pedal and watched it move weightlessly through the air._

_Dragon's pointed ear flicked, and she sighed deeply. "I do," she answered. "I give you a hard time simply because I can and I'm bored. Being in your mind is not always nice. There is no one to talk to when you're not asleep, and I get very lonely in here. Perhaps you should create some more characters for me to see and talk to."_

"_And slip back into madness?" Maria hissed, throwing the stem of her flower away at the base of the minimal raise of land they were on. "No thanks. I don't feel like having pills shoved down my throat twenty-four seven, seeing things that are not there, and mumbling like a lunatic to myself again. No thanks; did that for two years, and I don't want to go back."_

"_But we're not _home_. You know what the Victorian Era's asylums did to their patients. Does blood-letting and screws in the head ring any bells? Oh, and ice-picks through the eyes . . .? Hmmm?"_

_Maria shivered as she recalled what the torturous things doctors did to those whom were mad. She saw the old photos of leeches being placed on people's skin to release blood—electroshock "therapy" and lobotomies; the wretched picture of ice picks sticking out from the eye ducts. Other horrors she had seen in history class; semicircle pieces of metal around people's head, which was screwed into place. Only a slice of bread for breakfast and pea soup for dinner . . . But she could not blame the doctors too much; they had no idea what they were dealing with. But then again, there were those sick bastards that enjoyed their "work" too much._

"_Yes, I admit, the Victorians were not very nice to those who were crazy," Maria whispered, picking up another flower, and stared at the smoothly-coloured amethyst chrysanthemum. "But still, being locked in a cushioned room, sometimes being contained in a straight-jacket, and being watched like a monkey in its cage is still not very appealing to me."_

_Dragon smiled a creepy grin that stretched across her face. "So, let's keep your insanity down to a minimal while you are in this world, my dear Maria," Dragon said. "The last thing you want is to go to one of these asylums in this world. So, if you want to have a release, go somewhere quite and freak out. And if you want to talk to me, you can always talk to me. I'm with you twenty-four seven, as you know. But don't talk to me during the day, don't want to attract attention, now do you?" There was a cackle, and Dragon reared back her head, smiling madly._

_Maria furrowed her brows, staring hard at the beast. "If my family knew that you still existed, they would freak," she said, tucking her heels closer to her inner legs._

_Dragon straightened her form, looking at Maria with a stoic tone. A smile then broke out across her lips, and she grinned toothily. "Would they send you back to the loony-bin if they knew?" she asked._

"_Probably."_

"_What if Justin knew."_

"_No," Maria said sharply. "Leave him out of this."_

"_Oh? Why so? Maybe it's because you rather fancy him?" Dragon said, shaking her shoulders with a smug look on her face. "He is rather handsome, I must concur."_

"_Yes, I am attracted to him."_

"_Lovely piece of eye-candy, hmmm?"_

"_He looks familiar," Maria said distantly, completely ignoring the beast at her side. "Like I've seen him before."_

"_I highly doubt it."_

"_But it doesn't matter; Justin should not know," Maria said, her eyes closed. "If he did know he would abandon me."_

"_Just like Francis did when he left you?"_

_Maria stiffened, her eyes widening when they popped open, and every hair on her body stuck up straight as her skin tensed. She could feel her body tremble, and she gripped her arms to control herself. With utter hatred in her eyes, she turned up to Dragon, who was still smiling._

"_Don't you ever bring up that pitiful excuse for a man again, do you understand me," Maria growled out._

"_Struck a chord, did I?"_

"_Do you understand me, Dragon!" she shouted, getting to her feet so she could glare properly at the strange being in front of her._

"_I understand, but that does not mean I will do what you say," Dragon said. "You are weak, no matter how strong you may seem. The mere mention of his name makes your blood boil. You're still in love with the man, aren't you?"_

"_N-no," Maria stammered out._

"_Oh, yes you are. You hate the fact that he left you—your ego can't handle it. You still dream of him from time to time, He was your high school sweetheart, other than that Viki girl; that one-time lesbian fling eh? Remember her? Oh, back to lover-boy . . . And there mere thought of him leaving you when you went mad not only disgusts you, it infuriates you. After all, you did the dumping with men; you were the heartbreaker. Boys that did not reach what you wanted were rejected and dumped. You were a real bitch to them. After all, you were in the gifted program—you were smarter than the entire school, and no one was good enough for you. Then you found him, dear Francis, the man of your dreams. Not only was he handsome, but he was at your level of intellect. You were planning to marry_ him when you came back _from the War. But you went mad and he found some silicon-filled woman to replace you. Such a pity."_

_Maria twitched, turning her head away. A bob of thick saliva sat in her throat, and her eyes stung. "I love who I thought he was," she said, falling to the ground as she clutched her legs to her chest. "He said he would stay by my side . . ."_

"_And he's doing such a _fine_ job."_

"_Shut it, Dragon."_

_Dragon chuckled, grinning toothily at Maria as she scratched the nape of her thick neck. "Well, you need to get your ego in line," she said. "You heartbreaker you. Karma kicked you in the ass pretty bad, didn't it?"_

_Maria was silent as she nibbled on her lower lip. "I guess I kinda did deserve it, didn't it?" she asked with a humorless snicker. "AS they say: 'what goes around comes around.' Pfft."_

"_You sure did. You hurt a lotta nerdy boys when you rejected them. They were never good enough for you." _

_The Lieutenant lightly traced the fake flower below her. "I know," she said in a low tone. "But still, it hurts . . . I don't know if I will ever get over it . . ."_

"_Ah, get over it," the rugged creature said with a snort. "Where's that optimism in you? Have you lost it tonight?"_

"_No," Maria said in a tough voice. "I have my moments when I get sad. But how is my optimism? Is it good?"_

"_Well, Doc did a fine job with retrieving what you lost when you went mad," Dragon said, nodding her head slowly. "Yeah, you were what like you used to be—prideful, hungry for life, egotistical, helpful and loving . . . Yeah. But, of course, I never existed until some three years back."_

"_I'll figure out a way to rid of you."_

"_I told you how, but you won't listen."_

"_Because you're wrong."_

"_There goes your ego again."_

"_Whatever."_

_Dragon shook her head, and stared at Maria. "Just think about it, Maria," she said around a yawn. "It's almost morning. You should get up."_

"_I know."_

"_Don't forget your medication."_

"_You're not my mother."_

"_Just lookin' out for you," Dragon stated, stretching out her wings as she curled into the grass below. "Because that's what I do."_

"_Right, Dragon, right," Maria said, scratching her cheek with cut-down fingernails._

_Dragon's thick tail curled comfortingly around Maria's lithe form and she was purring rather like a cat would if it was nestled firmly in its owner's lap. Maria reached across, despite hating the beast before her. Then again, Dragon was her other half, and she had to love her . . . In a very strange little way. Maria did not even understand it herself. Probably because Dragon was the other her, and what she became of her after the War. And for some strange reason, Maria felt sorry for Dragon. But she hated Dragon! Damn her mixed feelings. It was like hating someone with schizophrenia—you hate the illness but the person could not help it._

"_Sleep well, Dragon."_

"_And you too."_

"_I'll see you in the morning," Dragon said with a yawn._

"_Night, actually," Maria corrected._

"_You know what I mean. Go talk to that Justin fella if you can," Dragon said with a wink and a smirk. "He's still free . . ."_

_Maria rolled her eyes, and shook her head (fuming at the beast at her side), albeit liking the idea of seeing the handsome prince again._

"_I can see that you like the idea."_

"_Shut up."_

_Dragon chuckled deeply, her forked tongue slipping from her lips to lick Maria's hand in some strange form of comfort. Maria watched, feeling the coolness of the saliva cover her skin and make her shiver lightly. The world around her started to disappear. Like the sway of thin sheet metal, the atmosphere trembled and shook, giving off a metallic glow before vanishing completely._


End file.
